Zombie-dem

by James J. Stubbs

  Chapter 12

  Get your kicks on the A66

  'Just relax.' Logan could feel the cold barrel of the shotgun held against the side of his face. But it was shaking. It was feint and barely detectable but he picked up on the tremor right away. 'I'm going to turn around so you can see me.' He had instinctively, even though the man with the gun who he had not yet seen had said nothing, placed his hands in the air. One of them he kept only a finger raised. That was for Lizzie. She must have seen it because she didn't follow him into the hotel foyer. The man with the gun may or may not have even known she was there.

  'What kind of gun is that?' Logan, somewhat out of character, sounded cocky. He was playing with him. Once he was square with the man who held the gun, still against Logan's cheek, he could see just how nervous he actually was. The unnamed and not too vocal man stood at least a foot shorter than Logan, and at least a foot thinner in width too. He wore a messy and torn shirt. He must have been wearing it a long time too because he didn't smell too fresh. It was, at some point, a white business suit.

  He must have been in the hotel for a meeting. Maybe he owned the place. Not that Logan liked to make snap judgments based on loose information, considering of course he had turned out to be wrong about Lizzie having no partner, but he doubted this was the owner. Too young. Old place.

  'How many of the zombies have you killed?' Logan kept prying for an answer. He was aware that one of his still shiny gold Desert Eagles was on show in the break in his jacket. That would make for an interesting deterrent. The nervous man had his eyes virtually glued to it. He was very thin, almost gaunt. 'That gun...' Logan kept pushing. The barrel traced the short but defined bones of his cheeks as he talked. 'Did you used to shoot birds with it?' He finally acknowledge Logan's advance with a sly but single and simple shake of his head. 'You've never killed anyone before? Have you?'

  Logan was growing more and more cocky. And he had good reason to. The hotel reception was spread over two floors. It was as grand as its outside. Carved in oak wood and stained deep brown with thick varnish. The carpet, though bloodied in areas, was freshly laid at least in the past year. The walls were paneled in wood of the same colors. The desk had been upturned at the front, presumably as some kind of hollow defense.

  As Logan traced the contours of the sweeping banister that lined the main stairs, he could see Lizzie waiting at the top of the entrance hall, behind the nervous man. She must have climbed in somehow. He loved her fire. She could still surprise him. He had no idea how she had done it. She had a gun drawn but not poised. Having an audience made things awkward but Logan was enjoying the taunts. For all he knew, this man was with the cannibal group he had recently dispatched.

  'I only ask if you shoot birds with it... because it really is supposed to be a long range weapon.' He was getting braver with the taunts. But he had to be careful at the same time simply because a nervous man with a gun could still be dangerous. But he still had no reaction. 'You see the barrel, with it being so long, it makes for a very clumsy close quarters weapon...' Logan was teasing him, yes, but also giving him the chance to back down. He just wasn't getting the hint at all. The barrel stayed on his face but quivered even more deeply the more nervous he became.

  Logan finally grew tired and grabbed the barrel, pushing it to one side before taking a deep step towards the man who failed to recover. In no time his Eagle was drawn and pointed at the man's chest.

  'If you can't swing it around a phone box then its no good in a close fight.' Logan made sure the barrel of the shotgun was pointed no where near Lizzie. He glanced over and the man slowly locked eyes with her. Oddly his grasp of the gun released immediately and Logan had to take the weight of it before it fell to the floor. He pointed to her but she still didn't turn her gun on him.

  'Stay... stay away from room 121.' Lizzie rattled around to see the number atop the cream door she was in front of. Logan jerked his head towards her to suggest it was safe for her to join him. She quickly bounced down the fully carpeted steps and glanced back at the room. No need to guess what was inside room 121.

  'Mr. Wells... isn't feeling too well.' The nervous man stared at her through disturbing and very creepy eyes. 'Please don't disturb him.' He said rather simplistically. Logan shook his head when a disgusted look from Lizzie suggested she was about to dive headfirst into an argument with him.

  'Who's is the bike out front?' Straight to the point. Logan cocked his head to point back in the direction of the door.

  'Mr. Frederick. The Honda?' Logan nodded. 'Yeah, that's his.' He spoke in short bursts. Logan had no interest in finding out his name so didn't ask. But it would have been cruel to let him stay here deluded and starved so had a duty to at least try and make some sense out of it.

  'This your hotel?' Logan handed back the gun. And he did it with confidence. The man wasn't going to try to shoot them.

  'You with them?' He tried to sound as threatening as he could. Logan replied with a simple "no". He could guess who he was talking about.

  'They won't be coming around anymore either.'

  'Good. Bastards tried to eat me.' His speech was so fast and in little tiny bursts. It must have been some kind of shock.

  'Not much of you to eat, kid.' Logan looked him up and down. Skin and bones.

  Logan paced around but was getting itchy to leave. He saw a map beside the upturned desk and asked if he could take it.

  'Yes. They're free.' Logan packed it into his jacket. It was getting full in there after he swiped that whisky too. He took that out, much to Lizzie's surprise as she hadn't seen it and he hadn't mentioned either, and took a hefty swig from it. He loved that taste, and the warming aftertaste of burning cedar wood that it left in the back of his throat. He offered it to the man, who took it, but barely had enough to even taste it.

  'You think I might be able to borrow it?' Logan asked, again cocking his head back to the door behind them.

  'I'll have to ask him.' That shocked both Lizzie and Logan in the same measure.

  'He's here?' Lizzie asked but might have sensed the answer before it came.

  'Yes...' Not what she was expecting. 'He's not well though.'

  'Right...' Logan sighed as he spoke. The man scurried to a door not too far behind the overturned but large reception desk. He used what looked to be a master key to unlock it. He slid it only somewhat ajar and whispered through the crack left in the door frame. Logan had one finger stroking the but of his now holstered gun. Only groans followed but this did not seem to disturb the nervous man.

  He closed the door lightly after smiling at the presumably fully turned zombie on the other side, and with no hint of irony or even recognition of the ludicrous situation said: 'He said it's fine.' Logan didn't know whether to laugh, challenge him, or beat some sense into him. So did neither and just smiled and said thank you.

  The man unlocked a safe box, threw Logan a key and gestured, possibly a little rudely, towards the door. Even though feeling a little shunned and perhaps even a little offended, Logan felt this poor bloke deserved a last chance.

  'Are you...' he was about to finish by saying "are you coming with us, or are you going to stay?" but hadn't decided by the time he was interrupted.

  'I have my guests to see to.' He gestured again for the door, so Logan just said "thanks", took Lizzie by the hand once again and marched her out. She was about to protest. Her police instinct to protect despite the circumstances were powerful, but even she, on this occasion, decided that it was likely a total waste of time. Logan just made a b-line for the bike he had been eyeballing before the episode.

  'He was a little... strange.' She had to say something. It didn't feel right to just leave it without drawing a line under it. It was also, in part, a plea for help. Logan would probably have some half baked and borderline cold response that, despite the way he would form it, would probably sum it all up and make it all morally okay.

  'I guess.' Was all he said while slotting the small key into the stiff igniti
on switch. It obviously hadn't been fired up in a while and might take a little nursing. 'People just go to some odd places to deal with some horrible things. Maybe he can't face the reality... or he doesn't like being alone and just has to pretend that everything's just normal.' He summarized the situation in a nut shell. It didn't make it right, and it didn't make her feel any better either.

  'Could we have done more?' Sensing Logan was in no mood to debate, and just wanted to cut the line right up to the point, she just said what she needed to say. He shook his head but raised his upper lip, almost like he was doubting his own thoughts. 'It just feels like maybe we should have...' She didn't quite know how to finish the thought.

  'What?' He half smiled. 'Drag him to Russia?' He was only half joking but she knew he was right. If that really was the plan, and Logan was going in search of a way to cure the zombie plague once and for all, like he said he would in the first place, then what use would a jittery hotel clerk really be? Logan took that gun from him like it was a stick that had fallen from a tree. What use would he be in a fight? They were heading into some dark places. That much she knew, even though the way ahead was blind.

  'The people from the church aren't going to bother him anymore, even if those two from the camp site come back. Hunger might drive him from the hotel eventually but he's stayed alive there for a few months at least.' Logan just thought out loud and studied the rather detailed road map he had taken from the hotel.

  He didn't glance up to Lizzie but had turned the choke of the bike on. That made it start up but run a little richer than normal in terms of its air to fuel mix. It would just get everything moving nicely again and work out any kinks it might have developed while being sat for so long inactive.

  'Yeah... you're right.' She agreed with a smile but couldn't help a good long look in each of the closed windows with all of the creamy colored curtains drawn across them. All it would take was for one to get out and he'd be dead. But Logan was right. And to be cold, even if that happened, and there was one more zombie stumbling around the English countryside, what difference would it really make?

  'This town...' Logan held the map for her to see. She stood with her arms folded and clearly troubled, but no more than usual, so he said nothing about it and just pointed to the larger blob on the map. 'That's the town I landed in when first checking out the virus... before it mutated into this zombie mess.' He drew off into thought. Remembering the young family in the library. Remembering the first zombie and her child who died because Logan failed to act in time.

  'I remember the video.' She half smiled, unfolded her arms and took hold of one side of the map so they could study it together. Logan looked shocked. He had almost forgotten. The footage he recorded on his camera phone, to desperately try to convince Abe Priest, his deceased friend and fantastic scientist, that the dead were walking.

  'I hadn't realized that you had seen it?' Is all he managed to say. Lizzie began to laugh but not deeply or with any conviction.

  'Yeah... I was in New York, just killed my first zombie. I'm afraid you're a bit of a legend James Logan.' She didn't elaborate. She should really have told him that she thought he must have been some deranged nut at the time. There was a lot of hate for that video in the first few hours of its life. A lot of hatred for Logan too. He probably knew. He had held a glass up to the end of the world but a lot of people out there just couldn't face it.

  'Why do you mention it?' She asked instead. The bike was ticking over nicely by this point and Lizzie couldn't help but to feel the urge to continue on the journey. The curtains behind the main door of the hotel they were standing beside continued to twitch every few seconds. That was probably the very nervous man from before. The last thing they needed was another argument or fight in their hands. He was harmless really. But best not to cause any further aggravation.

  'I remember seeing a lot of road signs when I was there. Borrowed a police car... Nice motor in it actually, and drove from some nearby airfield.' Logan was procrastinating while he formed a plan in his head. 'Tees-port I think it was, on those signs. Which I guessed must be some kind of shipping port...' he trailed off again and kept scanning the map. It would be useless if they made it that far anyway so he just tossed it on the ground and sighed.

  'So this is really happening?' Lizzie asked him, giving away just the smallest hint of excitement in her voice. 'Russia?' Logan mounted the bike after securing his jacket. He had put his favored whiskey back into his belt and made sure his Desert Eagle's were strapped in properly. He kicked the stand away, changed the choke to normal settings so he could rev the bike hard. Make it feel alive, he thought.

  'If there is even a chance they are still working on the Zolpidem cure in Russia, then we have to try to make it there. We can swing past the airport I mentioned on the way... there might be a plane I can fly or something. Failing that we can check the port. Maybe there is a ship we can commandeer or barter for.' Lizzie loved the thought of not knowing. The thrill scared her a little. She was happy in the campsite, but maybe Logan and his deep desire to save people and move on and just keep trying no mater what, was rubbing off on her. He was right. They did have to try.

  'You know how to sail?' Lizzie swung her leg over the large and somewhat intimidating bike and shuffled herself onto the pillion seat behind Logan. There was a top box on the back, where the owner probably had some luggage stored. She could rest her back against that for a little more comfort. She reached around and cracked it open to find a helmet and a pair of gloves. She tapped Logan on the shoulder just as he was revving the bike hard again and walking it back towards the road.

  'I'll have those gloves but you should try the helmet on.' Of course he was going to say that. Far too protective still. It fit her rather nicely on first try and it was quite nicely decorated with blue stripes and stars. It suddenly reminded her that she was probably never going to step foot on her home country's soil ever again. That made her smile with a hint of homesickness. But there was no place for such silly things, like feelings of home, in a world like this. Home would have to be wherever she laid her head to rest. She tightened the straps of the helmet under he chin and took a deep breath. Bikes scared her a little.

  Logan turned around and tapped her gently on the leg. He was just making sure she was okay so she just took tight hold of his belt around the position of his hips to signal that she was good to go. He fired it to life right away and screamed down the smooth but undulating road ahead. He revved each gear hard before switching up with the kick switch. Logan couldn't remember the last time he rode a bike. But quickly remembered two things. Firstly how to actually do it, and secondly how much he loved the things.

  He swung the bike around the corners of the narrow and winding country road like a racer. He kissed the corners of each bend in the road but didn't go so fast as to scare her. Besides, he had no idea what might be in the road ahead at any point. Abandoned cars. Lone zombies or even solo travelers for all they knew.

  Lizzie was starting to enjoy the ride. The wind whipped around her legs and made it feel a little cold but it wasn't unpleasant. The bike felt warm enough and Logan seemed very relaxed behind its controls. In fact there was an odd sense of freedom to it. The road looked so much closer than it did behind the wheel of a car, where you feel almost completely invincible due to it being so protected on all sides. He opened the taps on a straight section of the road and she was sure it hit at least 100 miles per hour. It took her breath away but not so much that it frightened her. It was like being on a roller coaster.

  In no time at all they were out of the winding and narrow roads and into what seemed to be a beautiful small town nestled in the English countryside. The houses were built in classical cottage style and seemed mostly intact. It was almost like the zombie outbreak hadn't even hit them. The odd curtain twitched, a frightened couple behind one obviously scared by the noise of the engine. She almost protested to say that they should stop to help. But what could they do? They couldn't make lif
e any better for them. They had lived together for this long, obviously had survived the outbreak and the flu. They were safer where they were.

  Logan must have memorized the road names and numbers from the map, but often forgot to ride on the opposite side of the road to what he thought was normal. Not that it mattered. There were no cars to be seen beyond those rusting at the sides of the roads or parked in the odd driveway. He suddenly tapped her leg and pointed down the road. There was a single zombie in the center. It was still, tired, hungry and half decomposed. It's legs had sunk with rickets but it tried as it were to stumble forward to the bike when the noise startled it.

  Lizzie unclipped her helmet and waited for Logan to speed up. She held it out at arms length and swung just at the right time. The power of the bike damn near ripped her arm off but the zombie's skull exploded on impact. She dropped the helmet but liked how the wind whipped around her raven hair so didn't care at all. "Zombie kill of the month" she thought and chuckled with him. It was cruel to laugh. But oddly necessary.

  She could feel Logan's chest heaving at odd intervals. He was laughing. But she couldn't hear it over the noise of the engine. A couple more turns, a large bank lined with trees that flourished, almost celebrating the end of the human race, and they were on the open road. He revved it even harder than before and cranked the machine up to full speed given how far he could see into the distance. It took her breath away and she had to tuck in behind him just so she could breath in the slipstream his body generated. She rested her head on his shoulder, caught sight of the name of the road, the A66, and slowly began to fall asleep.