Jack Zombie (Book 5): Dead End

by Flint Maxwell

  I look to Norm. He shrugs then nods. Then I look to Darlene, waiting for her response, knowing exactly the type I’m going to get.

  “No,” Darlene says.

  “Darlene, it’s what’s — ” I say, looking at her. Her back is to all of us, arms crossed across her chest. She looks down the highway, at the mouth of the tunnel.

  “No,” she says again, this time with even more finality — if that’s possible. “My mom and sister are out there. Who knows how long they’ve been gone or where the hell they really are. We’re already running against a clock. I’m not going to waste anymore time by sleeping.”

  I hate to admit it, but she’s right. If it were Darlene out there, I wouldn’t stop to rest.

  If I were to guess the time, the time it would be in the old world where time actually mattered, I’d guess it was close to 9:00 p.m. Now, that’s not very late, but I’m always tired. There’s never downtime, never a chance to just rest easily without an eye open. Because there’s always the dead to worry about or the freaks and villains who’ve tormented us since the world ended. Still, some sleep is better than no sleep. It’d be dumb to travel into the city without rest. Dumb to plunge into the unknown when the sun isn’t shining and the zombies are typically rowdier.

  “We rest,” Norm says. “C’mon, Jack, I’m tired.”

  “Well, have fun,” Darlene says. She leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek, her lips barely touching my skin. A perfect, nonviolent slap to the face. Then she turns and starts walking down the highway. A strong gust of wind brings the stench from the tunnel toward us. It causes my stomach to clench and the leaves to rustle. I’m standing, watching my fiancé basically kill herself.

  Footsteps behind me. Norm grumbling then saying, “She’s a little firecracker, ain’t she?”

  “Yeah, she is,” I say. What can I do? I can’t let her go by herself.

  Abby sighs. She knows, too.

  So we walk on, toward the dark tunnel, where our lives will probably end.

  15

  The moon creeps out now; almost a full one. In the pale light, I can see Darlene’s face work into a smile. Yeah, she’s smiling now, but I doubt any of us will be smiling once we enter the tunnel.

  As we come up to the tunnel we slow down.

  Norm is shaking his head. I take a deep breath.

  “We’ll see their eyes,” Darlene says. I’m amazed at how nonchalant her voice is. She used to be scared of the zombies, she used to hate this life. But now it almost seems as if she’s reveling in it. I don’t know how I feel about that. She was innocent. Almost as innocent as Herb. Not even my beautiful fiancé can remain untouched by the horrors of the apocalypse. We are all turned in one way or another. Even if we remain unbitten, we will never be the same

  Abby goes first, and I almost reach out and grab her. We need a plan. We can’t just plunge into this unholy place without a plan. I see she actually stops short, hovering in the grayness cast by the moonlight above. She throws the VW’s door open. It makes a terrible screeching noise, metal grinding on metal. Far into the tunnel, something screeches back, and the sound is enough to make my blood run cold. Then, the quiet is filled by the echo of the screeches, both metal and not. Then, the flapping of wings, a rush of wind.

  Bats.

  I hate bats.

  Darlene screams. We all drop down, except Abby who I see has dove into the VW, her legs hanging out into the road. The bats seem to stream out of the tunnel forever, flapping over our heads. I feel their scrabbly claws crawling over my skin, their sharp teeth. See their glassy black eyes.

  Then, all is quiet.

  “Nice going, Abby,” Norm says.

  She grunts as she pulls herself out of the VW. I reach down to help Darlene up, but she shrugs me off and gets up herself, brushing away dirt and dust from the thighs of her pants. I don’t like this, but what can I do? Darlene’s all grown up, and she’s on a mission.

  “Yeah, it was nice going,” Abby says. She tosses something at Norm who jumps as she throws the item. The thing she throws catches the moonlight and spins in the air. Norm grabs it easily enough despite the lack of light. I lean in to see what it is.

  “All right! Good going, Ab!” Norm says. He flicks his thumb and orange fire spouts from his hand. Abby has found a lighter. Thank God. The dread and tension inhabiting all of us must ease.

  Darlene seems unfazed, though. She was going to keep going, light or not. Maybe there is a fine line between determination and recklessness. Maybe she doesn’t know it. That’s okay. That’s why I’m here, to protect her. Because I know as soon as I close my eyes and it’s her turn to be on watch, she’ll take off without us. I saw that determination. I saw that recklessness.

  The lighter is one of those square metal jobs. Nothing like a plastic Bic you have to hold the button down to keep lit. Norm flips it closed and the darkness smothers us. He flips it open, sparks a light, and the darkness leaves.

  We all turn our heads toward the dimly lit tunnel. There are a rows of cars, some parked crookedly, some not. But scattered among these cars, resting on their tires or over their hoods are half-eaten corpses…and a lot of blood.

  16

  I feel like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. Each step I take deeper into this mass graveyard is rickety and pained. I can practically hear my joints grinding against each other.

  The thin flame doesn’t penetrate the darkness as far as we’d like, but it helps. We come up on a pair of skeletal legs, shreds of jeans all around them. There’s a puddle of blood here. It’s a deep red in the faint dark, the flame dancing in its reflection. It looks like you can walk into the puddle and fall in; you’d fall forever.

  “Yuck,” Abby says, looking at the legs, which are smeared yellow and white and pink. Not a single tendon is left on the poor bastard.

  But I stop, my breath catching, because I see where the puddle is coming from. It’s coming from the rest of the body, which looks mostly intact. It’s intact because the man, who must’ve been alive when he was attacked by the zombies, crawled under the car to hide, but he didn’t crawl fast enough.

  I bend down to look at him even with the acid creeping up my throat telling me not to. Norm bends down with me, the lighter wavering. The man’s arms stretch out to some pipe running along the car. I imagine this man tried to pull himself away from the zombies, to some sort of safety on the other side, but he failed. The zombies munched on his legs, and he probably died of shock or from a heart attack. Poor guy. His hair is long and thin, almost greasy. I feel like I’m going to puke. What would come up, I have no idea.

  “Unlucky,” Norm says.

  “C’mon,” Darlene says, her voice squeaky, scared.

  “Yeah, we’ve seen enough dead guys,” Abby says.

  I step over the man’s leg bones and just as I do, they move.

  17

  A spike of fear flares through me. “Oh shit!” I yell.

  Darlene screeches.

  The zombie groans beneath the car. There’s a squelching noise as he maneuvers in his blood puddle. Those eyes, those evil, glowing eyes, cast off an iridescent glow onto the concrete.

  I back up until I hit Norm. He makes a noise like I’ve sucker punched him and then the light from the flame extinguishes. I hear the metal casing clatter off the road and go skittering away into the darkness.

  “Jack, you idiot!” Norm shouts.

  “Turn the light on!” Abby says.

  I keep backing up until I hit a car. A hand squeezes around my arm. All of a sudden, I don’t know where I’m at. The only thing directing me is the zombie’s eyes and the faint moonlight at the far end of the tunnel.

  The zombie makes a death rattle. Nails claw on the road, filling our ears with a grating noise. My heartbeat races, blood pressure rises.

  “Darlene?” I say.

  “Here,” she says to my left. I reach out until I find her arm. She doesn’t sound worried at all. That makes me nervous for some reason. Maybe because she might
end up doing something stupid.

  “I can’t find the lighter!” Norm says.

  “Let’s go,” I say. “Let’s just keep moving.”

  “And run into a wall of these bastards without any light?” Abby says. Then she clucks her tongue. “No, thanks.”

  Suddenly, Darlene is out of my grip. The metal click of a weapon drowns out the scrabbling and the groans and the wet movements from the dead man crawling toward us. Those haunted eyes float closer and closer.

  “How about we make our own light?” Darlene says.

  “What — ” I start to say but am cut off by the sudden thunderclap of her pistol. Inside of the tunnel, the noise is tremendous. It bounces off of the brick walls and the concrete. In the brief flash from the gun’s muzzle, I’m able to see the zombie’s twisted features. His face looks as if it is melting off of the bone — melted, like an ice cream sundae left out in the August sunshine. Then as my brain registers the sound of the weapon, my eyes close. When I open them, the zombie’s eyes are gone and Norm is shouting about how dumb that was.

  “You could’ve hit one of us!” Norm says. “Holy shit, Darlene! Jack’s supposed to be the stupid one in your relationship.”

  “Sorry,” she says curtly. Her voice is almost chilling.

  “Sorry?” Norm says. “Sorry? Really, that’s all you have to say?”

  “Norm,” Abby says.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Darlene says. “There was a chance I could’ve shot one of you guys, but there was a bigger chance that zombie was going to get us, or lead us into a situation that we can’t get out of. No one came after the explosions on the bridge, did they? And those were pretty loud explosions. I think — ” Her voice cracks the slightest bit and the only reason I think I’m able to detect it is because of the total blackness we are in. “The only reason no one came for us is because this whole part of California is empty.”

  She sounds like me, trying to rationalize what everyone thinks is stupid.

  The darkness is constant, but I can feel Norm’s eyes boring into me. I can feel the words on his lips: Control your woman!

  Makes me want to slap him. Darlene knows what she’s doing. We’ve never rolled over and let a zombie attack us before, have we? No.

  “Well, if there are people or zombies — which I’m damn sure there are — you’re telling me you don’t think the gunshot isn’t going to draw more of them? Or even some psychopaths?” Norm says. He’s yelling so loud and fast, his spit sprays me in a fine mist.

  Darlene makes a choking sound as if she’s about to blow up. I have to diffuse this situation before it gets even more out of hand.

  I finally find my voice. It’s quite a wake-up call getting spit on by your hot-headed older brother, I guess. I say, “Norm, if you don’t shut your big trap, every zombie in the Bay Area is gonna be coming for us.”

  He does, for the moment.

  “Chill out, Norm,” Abby says. “Darlene was just trying to help. Can’t fault her for that.”

  “We weren’t in immediate danger, if you hadn’t noticed,” Norm says.

  Felt like we were, I think, shivering. Aloud, I say, “Yet. We weren’t in any danger yet. What’s done is done, man. No sense in getting upset over spilled…brains.”

  No one laughs. They usually don’t laugh at my jokes so I can’t say I’m surprised. Still, I use my same old spiel when no one laughs. “Anyone? Seriously, nothing?”

  “Keep moving,” Norm says.

  He barrels into me, doesn’t apologize. It’s all right. Let him vent in his own way.

  I look onto the blackness that seems to stretch forever. There are no floating orbs of light, which means no zombies and I can’t complain about that. We’ll just have to watch out for more ankle biters underneath the stalled cars.

  And we’ll feel better once we are out of this tunnel. The smell of death chokes us, and I think that smell has a way of getting into your brain.

  “Hey! I found it!” Abby shouts.

  “Quiet,” Norm says. “Jesus Christ, why do y’all have such big mouths?”

  “Don’t say ‘y’all,’ Norm,” I say. “People who grew up in Woodhaven, Ohio, don’t talk like that.”

  “I can say whatever I want to say,” Norm says.

  “You can’t see it right now, man, but I’m rolling my eyes hard,” I say.

  “And you can’t see it, either, but I’m flipping you off,” Norm replies.

  Abby flicks the lighter. “Look,” she says, “the lighter.” Then I do see Norm flipping me off.

  “Great,” Norm says and snatches it, making the flame go out.

  18

  Movement.

  Movement causes us to stop.

  “Did you hear that?” Abby asks.

  Norm shushes her.

  I feel Darlene unholster her pistol and I put a hand out to stop her from blasting another zombie. We don’t need that again, not when the tension was just beginning to ease.

  The noise we hear is faint. I can’t pin it. It sounds like something scrabbling across the blacktop. I try not to imagine a legion of spiders coming at us. One thing I hate more than zombies are spiders.

  We have all stopped moving, our ears tuned.

  “Just the wind,” Norm says.

  “No,” I say.

  “The wind doesn’t growl,” Abby says.

  I turn to the sound of her voice, my head cocked, then I hear it. The growling. It’s low and rumbling. The fear gripping me eases. Zombies don’t growl; they death rattle. I know that growl. My grandma was an avid fan of the owners of those types of growls. Except, hers didn’t sound as dangerous or as big.

  I think Norm understands what it is, too, because he says, “Leave it, Jack. We gotta keep moving. I don’t want to be in this creepy tunnel any longer than I have to be.”

  But I don’t leave it. “Abby, give me a light.”

  Abby flicks the lighter on, the orange flame dimly brightening the tunnel. The brick looks wet. Three cars are smashed up against the wall, one facing us, as if the car veered into the oncoming lane and took out the other two. They sit crumpled and silent, their drivers gone.

  More growling. Normally, growling of any kind is enough to send me running in the other direction, but not this time.

  I see its tail first. It’s black and long. Then, as I approach the pick-up truck its hiding under, I hear shuffling, the click-clack of toenails hitting the concrete, and the deep, brown eyes reflecting the faint light.

  “Come here, boy,” I say, making smooching sounds.

  Now, I’m bending down with the lighter in my hand. Abby has since traded me. She’d rather hold a gun. I don’t blame her. It’s probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life. It might not be a dog. It might be a zombie or some crazed man who’s been trapped in the darkness for so long, who’s forgotten what light actually looks like. But I’d saw the tail and heard the nails clicking — or at least I think I did.

  “Norm,” I whisper, “give me that Slim Jim from your bag.”

  “It’s my last one,” he says. “Hell no — ” Thwap. Norm wincing. “Stop hitting me, Abby — ” Another thwap.

  “Give Jack the jerky,” she says.

  Darlene watches this all with a dazed look on her face, like she’s not here, like she’s back in her old house, pulling the gun on her father. I focus on the pick-up truck. Norm unzips his bag, grumbling. “Why do I always have to be the one to give up the jerky?”

  “We’ll get you more jerky,” Abby says. “Geez. It’s just jerky.”

  Norm puts the food in my hand. The package crinkles and stabs at my palm. I start to unwrap it and that same smell — well, almost — of the Snausages I used to give to a junkyard dog named Cupcake years ago hits my nostrils.

  I bend down lower. Again, probably not the smartest idea considering this dog might not be a dog at all. It might be a giant spider or a crazy man. I lay in the prone position, the cool concrete sending goosebumps up my back, with the lighter in my hand.<
br />
  I see the dog’s eyes first. They are a deep brown. They are gorgeous.

  The next thing I see after the dog’s beautiful eyes is how scared it is. It’s shaking and whimpering.

  “Come here, boy,” I say.

  “Hey, it could be a girl,” Darlene says. This surprises me. I crane my head up to look at her and see that she’s smiling, that dazed expression now gone on her face. This is good. She’s my old Darlene, if just for a moment.

  I turn back to the dog, which is backing farther under the pick-up truck, now almost touching the curb closest to the tunnel’s wall. I hold the beef jerky out. The dog whines at its sight. I don’t think it has seen food like this in a long time. I can’t imagine what this poor thing had to eat to stay alive. Garbage? Dirt? People?

  “Jack, just leave it,” Norm says.

  “No,” I say. I don’t know why I won’t. It’s probably not smart for me to be doing this. We are basically sitting ducks in this dark tunnel of death. We don’t know what lurks in the shadows ahead, or hell, even all around us. Am I doing this because Herb is gone and our group which was once five strong is now one short? Or am I doing it because I know Darlene needs this? She needs another companion that can’t piss her off like I do sometimes. I don’t know. But I’m doing it.

  The dog eyes the beef jerky with hunger. Its nose twitches at the sharp scent of the snack, a nose which is devoid of all moisture.

  “C’mon, Jack, just leave it,” Norm says.

  The lighter is getting unbearably hot in my hand. I’m not sure how much fluid is left in it and we still have about three-quarters of a mile to go in this tunnel, I’m guessing. I let my finger off of the button. Darkness invades us as I push myself off the ground, then I brush away pebbles and grit pressed into my forearms and my shirt.

  I know I’m not going to force the dog out from under the cars. It’ll have to come out on its own. So I tear off a piece of the jerky and leave in on the road just outside of the pick-up.