Zombie D.O.A. (The Complete Series)

by JJ Zep

  For a moment, Bear looked like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, then his eyes narrowed and he said, “You die tonight, mister.”

  He started to bring his rifle up and I lifted the shotgun, knowing as I did that I’d miscalculated in expecting them to back down. Then, in a blur, Giuseppe flew past me and grabbed Bear by the wrist. I heard the crunch of tooth on bone and Bear screamed and got off a burst that flew high and wide. To my right I heard a single shot and the biker covering Pastor Ray went down. The tall biker dropped his rifle and threw up his hands.

  Bear was still screaming as Giuseppe now straddled him, his teeth exposed in a snarl a few inches from the biker’s nose. I walked over and knocked Bear out with the butt of the shotgun.

  “Murderer!” Pastor Ray was shouting, “Murdering papist.”

  “Sorry you feel that way father,” I said.

  “Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed, for in the image of God made he man.”

  “Ray,” Nate said, joining us in the street, “Save it for Sunday.”

  four

  We took Bear and the other biker to the Sherriff’s office and locked them in the only cell. Yonder came down and got Bear’s hand bandaged while the big man cursed and swore and threatened.

  “Virgil Pratt gets to hear of this he’s gonna burn this pissant little burg to the ground, rape your women, eat your children and skin you and that fucking mutt of yours alive,” he sneered.

  “That’s the second time you’ve called my dog a mutt,” I said. “Maybe next time I won’t rein him in, maybe I’ll just left him rip your throat out.”

  “Bring it on,” Bear said but he sounded less confident than he had a minute ago.

  After we left the lockup, Nate and I walked Yonder home, then headed back to his place.

  “What we gonna do about them bikers?” Nate asked. “We let them go and we’ll have the Dead Men riding into town within the day.”

  I’d thought about that one myself, but right now I just wanted some sleep. It was well past midnight and I was exhausted.

  “Let’s talk about it in the morning,” I said to Nate as he directed me towards the spare room.

  “And who’s this Virgil Pratt, he’s talking about?”

  “In the morning,” I said and shut the door.

  I expected to fall asleep immediately but instead I lie awake with a hundred thoughts battling for my attention. I’d planned to walk out of here in the morning. To follow the dirt track from here to route 83 and from there to the nearest town where I could hustle up some wheels. Now I had the wheels right here, in the shape of three Harley Davidson motorcycles. True, I hadn’t ridden in years, but I was sure I’d soon get the hang of it.

  But could I really just ride away? Could I really just leave these people to the tender mercies of The Dead Men? Could I really leave Kelly, and Giuseppe who’d saved my life?

  That the Dead Men would be back I had no doubt. If a couple of knuckle heads like Bear and his crew could find this place, albeit with the help of Pastor Ray’s flares, then others could too. And it was me they wanted, after all. I was the one who’d been behind the wheel. I was the one who’d decided to take The Dead Men head on, rather than running into the brush and hiding. It was my responsibility.

  That annoying word nagging at me again, responsibility. What had Tom said to me back in Kentucky, “I got a conscience bitches worse than a nagging wife.” It seemed I did too, and before I eventually dozed off, I’d decided I had to stick around a while. At least until I’d convinced these people that they needed to protect themselves.

  Almost as soon as I fell asleep I was in a dream. I was on the beach again and spotted Ruby in her familiar blue swimsuit. Except this time there was a man with her, a man who I couldn’t quite identify, but who was infuriatingly familiar. The man took Ruby by the hand and they started to walk away from me. I tried to follow, but as always I made no headway. The dream ended with the rusted road sign, lying crumpled at the side of a road on a dusty plain.

  I woke to the sound of a rooster crowing and the smell of eggs cooking. Nate was at the wood-burning stove making breakfast and Giuseppe was watching him aptly, waging his tail and running his tongue over his lips like an intermittent wiper.

  “This old stove heats up the geezer, so if you want to catch a hot shower, now’s the time to do it,” Nate said.

  The shower was somewhat primitive, an old watering can hung on a wire above the bathtub. Still, it was the best shower I’d had in months and Nate had even laid out some shaving gear and a change of clothes.

  The pair of Levis I’d been wearing was probably only fit for the trash, and I was thinking of tossing it when I remembered the picture of Tom and Betsy I’d taken from the truck. I rifled through the pockets and found the photograph, now slightly bent and dog-eared.

  There was another photo too, a head and shoulders shot of Kelly. For a moment I was confused. How had that got there? Had Kelly slipped it into my pocket sometime, maybe while I was sleeping? And if so, why?

  “Grub’s up if you’re ready,” Nate called from the kitchen.

  I was ready. In fact, I was starving. I slipped the two photographs into my pocket and headed for the kitchen where Nate dished out some scrambled eggs with tinned sausages. He returned to his own plate and tossed a sausage to Giuseppe who woofed it down and the looked at Nate as if to say, “come on, one more, I know you’ve got it”.

  “Sleep okay?” Nate asked.

  “Oh yeah, like the proverbial baby.”

  “There’s a council meeting later,” Nate said, “Be happy if you attended.”

  “But, I’m not…”

  “Still. We need to make a decision on what to do with them bikers, and I could do with your support and advice in there. Old God Ray’s sure to have a hard on about letting them go, and I don’t think that’s such a good idea until we figure this out.”

  I nodded, “I’ll be there if you need me,” I said, “as long as the other council members don’t object.”

  “We’ll there’ll be no fight from me or Yonder. Cal won’t attend, but I have his proxy. Ray of course will kick up a stink, and old man Crouch pretty much goes any way the wind blows. He’s half senile, truth be told, but whichever way it turns, we got ‘em at least three to two.”

  “So what’s your thinking, about the bikers?” I asked.

  “Up to me, I say we should have finished them last night, saved ourselves the trouble. Lot easier to shoot a man in the heat of the moment than to take him out and execute him.”

  “That’s truth. By the way, good shooting last night I thought you said you couldn’t shoot worth shit.”

  “I said without my eyeglasses, I couldn’t shoot worth shit. Ma McCool, that’s Ray’s ma, had her pair on the nightstand, and I kinda borrowed them.”

  I laughed then, thinking of Nate, wearing some old maid’s spectacles to take a bead on a gun-totting biker, while the old lady lay snoring behind him.

  “So what’s the deal with Virgil Pratt?” Nate asked when the laughter died down.

  “Virgil Pratt’s dead, “ I said and then started telling him the story of my run in with the homicidal gunslinger. I’d just reached the part where me and Babs and Roy were in the cage when my brain suddenly made the connection it had probably been subconsciously working on since I’d found the photograph of Kelly in my pocket. Babs had passed me something in the cage. A piece of card that he’d told me to put it in my pocket. Except, not a piece of card, but a photograph, a photograph of Kelly.

  Now I was even more confused. What was Babs doing with a photo of Kelly and why had he given it to me?

  “Chris?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Er, you kinda drifted off there, you were saying?”

  “Oh yeah, where was I?”

  “You and Babs and Roy are in the cage, and Virgil Pratt’s announcing how he’s going to unleash his Zombie Army on you.”

  “Oh yeah, right…” I told him t
he rest of the story, finishing with us pulling the bus into the gas station and running into him and Cal.

  “Man, that’s some fucked up tale,” Nate said. He shook out a smoke from a pack of Chesterfields and offered me one.

  “Thanks, I don’t,” I said.

  Nate lit up, took a deep drag, then looked at the end of his cigarette as though it had failed to deliver the requisite dose of nicotine.

  “So the word obviously hasn’t reached these boys yet, that their head honcho is pushing up the daisies. Dumb ass bikers.”

  Another light bulb turned on in my head, dumb ass bikers, isn’t that what Babs had called them when he’d produced the vial of Blueberry Hill? ‘Courtesy of Pete the biker,’ he’d said, ‘remember him?’

  And then quite suddenly I did remember. Babs had shown Pete a photograph, this photograph of Kelly I was sure, and he’d asked him, ‘Have you seen this… girl?’ I was sure that he’d said girl, not boy. But why make such an obvious and deliberate mistake?

  five

  The council meeting took place in one of the rooms of the town hall, a dusty relic with mottled paintwork and a scarred old table at its center. Yonder was already there when we arrived and had set out a jug of water and some glasses.

  Pastor Ray arrived five minutes late ushering in an old-timer who looked like he might have been one of the town’s founding fathers. The minute he saw me, Ray’s expression changed, “What he doing here?” he demanded.

  “Invited.” Nate said, “By the council.”

  “Well, I’m a councilor and I never invited him.”

  “Let’s put it to the vote, shall we? Yonder said. “All those in favor?” Nate and Yonder both raised their hands. “Those opposed?” Ray raised his hand, then whispered something to the old man, who lifted his hand as slowly as a freeze-frame movie.

  “The motion is carried,” Yonder said, “The council welcomes…”

  “Wait a moment,” Ray said, “you need a majority to carry the motion, I make it two two.”

  “I’ve got Cal’s proxy,” Nate said, “which makes it three two, sorry padre.”

  “That’s not fair,” Ray pouted.

  “It is in the constitution,” Yonder said.

  “Oh, very well.”

  “As I was saying, the council welcomes…”

  “Oh, do get on with it. Welcome. There it’s done.” Ray shot me a look that was more venomous than the rattler that had bitten Cal.

  “Right,” Yonder said, “first order of business…”

  “I propose a name change of the town from Pagan to Bethlehem,” Ray interrupted.

  “Vetoed,” Nate said.

  “And anyway,” Yonder said, “We have more important business to discuss. This is an extraordinary meeting specifically to discuss the events of last night and what we are going to do about them.”

  “Well that’s easy,” Ray said, “We let those two gentlemen in the jail walk free. Then, when they return with their friends we hand over this murdering papist and let them do with him what they will.”

  “Actually, Ray,” Nate said “I’m the one shot the feller that was killed last night.”

  “Put up to it by him.”

  “No actually, I did that all…”

  “Incitement is as bad as the act, worse even.”

  “Order!”

  “…by my self, seen as the feller was…”

  “Vengeance is mine sayeth, the lord.”

  “Order.”

  “…the feller was about to shoot you.”

  “ The revenger of blood shall slay the murderer, when he meeteth him.”

  “Maybe you’d feel better if I’d let him…”

  “Order!”

  The room fell instantly silent and Yonder sat there looking flushed and lovely and I could see why Nate had fallen for her.

  “Gentlemen please, let’s at least try to behave like adults.”

  The old main raised his hand in a slow painful arc that seemed to take ages.

  “The chair acknowledges, Mr. Crouch,” Yonder said, then when the old man didn’t respond, “Mr. Crouch, sir?”

  “ Who died?” the old man rasped, “Someone I know?”

  “No one you know,” Yonder assured him and he seemed happy with that.

  “Let’s get to the matter at hand,” Nate said. “What to do about the Dead Men.”

  “May I?” I cut in.

  “Chair acknowledges, Mr. Collins,” Yonder said, and slipped me a smile.

  “Way I see it is this…”

  “And what makes you the expert? Ray interrupted.

  “Chris has had dealings with these fellers before,” Nate said.

  “Figures,” Pastor Ray snorted.

  “Way I figure is this,” I continued. “You’re exposed out here. No perimeter fence, no lookout posts, no guns…”

  “Oh, for heavens sake!” Ray said.

  “Mr. McCool!” Yonder said, “One more outburst and I’m ejecting you from this meeting. Do you understand?”

  Ray looked down at his water glass and muttered something under his breath.

  “Do you understand?” Yonder repeated.

  “Yes, yes,” Ray said eventually, “just get on with it.”

  “Mr. Collins,” Yonder said, “Please continue.”

  “Look,” I continued, “Let’s not mince words here. You’re dealing with some bad people. The Dead Men are slave traders, rapists, torturers, maybe even cannibals.”

  “Not papists though,” Ray muttered under his breath.

  “I’ve seen a lot of this myself, but don’t take my word for it, ask the people that came in on that bus with me, ask Kelly, the kid who…”

  “Ask the folks me and Cal rescued, they’ll tell ya.” Nate said.

  “No one is beyond the redemption of our lord and savior,” Ray said.

  “Hate to disagree with you father but these people are.”

  “Why do you insist on calling me father?”

  “Gentlemen.” Yonder reprimanded us.

  “Okay, so you have a couple of choices. You either abandon the town…”

  “We ain’t running,” Nate interjected.

  “…or you prepare to defend yourselves.”

  “That get’s my vote,” Nate said.

  “May I?” Pastor Ray said ultra-politely.

  “Chair acknowledges Mr. McCool.”

  “Pastor McCool,” Ray corrected, then continued, “there is a third way. Put your faith in the lord above…”

  “Oh yeah, because he’s done such a bang up job getting us to this point.” Nate said.

  “The lord moves in mysterious ways.”

  “Maybe so, but when I’m facing down a hungry Z or a drugged up biker, I’d rather have a rifle in my hand.

  The meeting quickly got out of order from there.

  six

  “Order!” Yonder shouted and banged on the counter making the glasses rattle. Nate and Pastor Ray ignored her and squared up across the table, Nate matching Ray’s scripture with a couple of choice expletives.

  “I am not leaving my home,” Ray was saying, “and I won’t have my church used as a lookout post!”

  “Fine,” Nate countered, “and when the Dead Men are herding you and your flock down A Street, don’t come crying to us.”

  “The lord is my shield and my protector…”

  “Yeah, but how’s he with a rifle?”

  “Gentlemen!” Yonder shouted and eventually they fell silent. “That’s better. Now, I’m asking you gentlemen for the last time. I’m not sure you appreciate the gravity of our situation. Someone’s bound to come looking for those men we have locked up in the jail. And when they do, we need to be ready. So Ray…”

  “Pastor Ray…”

  “So Pastor Ray, I’m going to ask you to stop interrupting. And Nate I’m going to ask you to keep a civil tongue in your mouth.”

  Nate looked at her like a scolded schoolboy with a crush on his teacher. Ray simply huffed and looked out t
he window.

  “Chris…er…Mr. Collins,” Yonder said. “Would you continue?”

  “What I was saying is, with the numbers we got, it’s going to be impossible to defend the whole town. We need to bring everyone into a smaller space, where we can er… have more compact firepower. “ I felt embarrassed using the term. I’d never served in the military and knew very little of military strategy. I had however, managed to survive for three years on the road, and I’d learned some stuff watching Joe Thursday and Babs and listening to Tom Riley’s war stories. Plus as a professional fighter I knew the value of playing to your strengths, of making yourself a small target, of luring the other guy in, of hitting hard and moving fast.

  “So what I’m proposing is we move everyone into the center of the grid and make this building here, the town hall plus the sheriffs office, our stronghold. For starters they’re the only brick structures in town. If The Dead Men decide to start a fire these dry old wood buildings will go up like tinderboxes.”

  “Solid thinking,” Nate said.

  “The problem with this plan…”

  “Here it comes,” Ray muttered.

  “…is that we’re pretty much backing ourselves into a corner, and as a fighter I know that’s usually a bad idea, especially you’re up against someone with superior hitting power, which we know we are. And that brings me to the second problem…”

  “There’s more?” Ray said sarcastically and Yonder shot him a glare.

  “We have virtually no weapons. I’ve got the shotgun, but not much ammo. Nate, you’ve got your rifle, and I’m imagining Cal has one too…”

  “He does,” Nate confirmed.

  “…then there’s the rifles and hand guns we took off those bikers…”

  “I have a handgun,” Yonder cut in, then added in an embarrassed tone, “an old Colt .45, but I’m sure it still fires.”

  “Even so, we come up way short against the firepower they’re likely to be packing.”

  “We could ride those Harleys into Whelan or Canadian,” Nate said, “There’s sure to be a sporting goods store and the sheriff’s building’s likely to have some guns.”