Desolation Boulevard

by Mark Gordon

  Chapter 53

  Pets

  Dylan followed the fat man back towards the zombie cage, and marvelled at his boldness. He waddled along the deserted road, his chubby little face whistling with happiness, despite the fact that he’d just incarcerated two innocent women. Dylan wanted to leap on the evil turd and beat him to a pulp, but he knew that he had to restrain himself until the door of the bank vault was opened, and for that he would need to be patient.

  Dylan watched from a safe distance, as the man loped casually towards the used car yard. Every fifteen metres or so he stopped and shuffled the heavy overnight bag from one hand to the other, as his arms grew tired. It was clear that this was about as much exercise as he had ever done. He reached the car yard he threw the bag on the ground, and stretched his arms above his head as he looked around, puffing heavily from the walk. Then he picked up his bag and headed around behind the car yard sales office where the creatures were sleeping. Dylan waited until he had disappeared from view, and crept quietly to the side of the office where he would be able to observe, unseen.

  Brock was oblivious to Dylan’s presence as he put the key into the cage's padlock. He wasn’t worried about the creatures attacking him, because he knew they only came out of hibernation once the sun had set. He had stuck his head into the kennel to check on the creatures and was satisfied that they were still sleeping. He unzipped the bag and took out three large plastic tubs that contained hunks of raw meat. He removed the lids and poured the mess into a large metal dish the size of a garbage can lid, before wiping his hands on his already filthy cargo pants. He let himself out of the cage, and locked it behind him. Once he was satisfied that the cage was secure, he sat on an upturned milk-crate and considered his incredible good fortune in the days since Montana had been stolen from him days ago.

  When Brock had watched Matt drive out of Carswell with Montana, he had been consumed with fury. He stormed around the streets breaking windows, screaming at the world and crying like a baby whose toy had been taken away. He had never known rage like it, and to his surprise, he found it painful and pleasurable in equal measures. After the outburst, which lasted until the sun began to set, he found himself lying on his back in the middle of the street, much like the decaying corpses around him, taking in big deep breaths as his sobs subsided. Emotionally drained, he stared at the sky, tinged with pink, and unexpectedly, with alarming clarity, he realised that the old world was dead. The first star of the night was shining brightly from light years away, and it made him feel insignificant and incredibly important all at the same time. So, as the daylight leeched from the town and the shadows crept in, Brock realised that he could be absolutely anything that he wanted to be. Anything.

  Later that night, locked safely in his bank fortress, Brock was imagining all of the ways he could kill Montana and that cocksucking farm boy, when he heard an odd monotonous sound coming from outside. He lumbered to the front window and scratched his head in confusion as he looked up and down, trying to locate the source of the strange sound. Finally, out of the darkness towards the west, a procession of feeders moved down the street, with great purpose, towards his position. He could scarcely believe what he was witnessing as the beasts continued to march out of the blackness, like some crazy protest from the portals of hell. He ducked down in the window and was even more amazed when he saw how they behaved up close. Instead of acting as an unruly, violent mob, they seemed to share a common goal as they strode through the town. They didn’t attack each other, and they didn’t seem to be in hunting mode. They were all heading in the same easterly direction, as if under the command of an unseen leader. Brock didn’t understand what this meant, but he realised that he was viewing something that was both disturbing and fascinating. An almost imperceptible smile played across his face.

  He watched over the next few hours, until there were literally hundreds of zombies walking past his position at the window. As they passed the well-lit bank (now powered by a generator) Brock could see that they were not in a dream state, like sleepwalkers, as he had originally thought, but in fact the opposite. They seemed extremely aware of their surroundings, and of each other. Brock could see them glare suspiciously at the lights as they went by, but they didn't seem interested in investigating, and they continued their bizarre pilgrimage to the east.

  As the night wore on, the feeder numbers dwindled until just a couple of hours before dawn, there was only the occasional, lone creature shuffling through the town slowly, left behind by the faster pack. Brock could see that the behaviour of these stragglers was different than the others. Weaker and less agile, they followed well behind the stronger group, with something like fear in their eyes. Brock didn’t know why they didn’t have the strength of the others, but something about their vulnerability gave him an idea. He took up a position at the window on a comfortable chair and waited for his opportunity. Next to him was a stun gun he’d liberated from the Carswell Police Station and a large coil of rope that he’d found in the bank storeroom. For the next hour he waited. Occasionally, exhausted from being up most of the night, his fat head would loll forward onto his chest, jerking him awake with a start. At around five o’clock in the morning, he was so frustrated and bored that he was ready to give up his vigil and go to bed, when he saw what he’d been waiting for – a lone feeder stumbling weakly down the street towards the bank. It was in clearly in bad shape. It would walk a few paces, then stop and look around, as if wondering where it was. A scrawny older male, wearing just a few remnants of a tattered t-shirt and nothing else - it stood in the pre-dawn gloom swaying slightly from side to side just ten metres from Brock’s position in the window. He realised that now was his best chance to capture one of these beasts, so he grabbed the stun gun and rope and headed for the front door.

  Brock checked his stun gun, and opened the door. He stepped out onto the street, and could see an instant change in the demeanour of the creature as it noticed him. It’s expression changed from confusion to hatred in a split second, as it glared at this human who had dared to show himself. The feeder’s body became more erect and its muscles tensed, and Brock had a sick feeling in his stomach that he’d made a very bad choice, as the creature stared him down. What a stupid move! This was madness, he thought, as he tentatively raised the stun gun and pointed it at his target. For almost a minute, neither figure moved as the eastern sky became lighter. Then, as if realising it needed to find a nest before daybreak, the creature charged towards Brock, who let out a little cry as fear gripped him like a vice. He took aim and fired the stun gun as the feeder reached him, and before he realised what had happened, the creature was lying at his feet, twitching spasmodically. Without wasting any time, he bound the feeder’s hands and feet with the rope, and then hoisted the filthy thing onto his back like a sack of potatoes. Brock may not have been fit, but he was strong enough to throw the creature around like a rag doll. He carried it down the street as fast as he was able, and locked it in the cage he had discovered behind the used car yard.

  He was grinning as he hurried back to the bank, thrilled with his catch. Then, a totally unexpected opportunity arose to capture a second feeder, when he saw a female slinking into a disused garden shed to hibernate for the night. It too had been separated from the main pack and was consequently stranded in Carswell. Instead of capturing this one immediately, though, Brock simply waited until later in the day and stunned it as it slept, before transferring it into the cage alongside the male.

  Dylan studied Brock as he sat watching the cage. It seemed clear that he was going to wait until dark, then observe his 'pets' as they woke to feed. Dylan was curious to see how the creatures would react to being confined in the small enclosure, but he knew that this was his chance to get to the girls, and let them know he was aware of their predicament. Leaving the tubby man to his macabre vigil, Dylan retreated from the car yard and ran as fast as he could to the bank. With the onset of nightfall, he was slightly concerned about encountering a stray creature, b
ut his intuition told him they were nesting at the Delano Caves with thousands more of their kind.

  When he reached the bank, he threw open the front door and ran straight to the vault. He couldn’t hear any sounds from inside, but he knew the girls wouldn’t have heard him enter the building. He found a baseball bat lying on the floor, and without hesitation began tapping out a rhythm on the huge steel door.

  “Sally, Bonnie, can you hear me? It’s Dylan!”

  The sound of muffled voices and banging from inside the vault told him that the girls could hear him, despite the thickness of the door.

  “Is that you Dylan? Get us out of here!”

  They sounded like they were speaking from inside a submarine, but he thought they could understand most of what he was saying, so he continued. “I can’t open the door. I have to wait until fatso gets back. Stay cool and don’t panic. I’ll get you…”

  Inside the vault, Bonnie and Sally stared at each other as Dylan’s voice suddenly ceased, their faces bathed in dark shadows like ghouls. They put their ears to cold door and listened, but there was no sound from outside. As the seconds ticked by, their hearts beat faster and the panic rose in them like a tide. Then suddenly a loud clank made them jump as the heavy door began to open. As they pulled on the door, however, they didn’t fall into the arms of their rescuer, as they had hoped. Rather, the man who had jailed them, not more than an hour ago, greeted them.

  “Going somewhere ladies?” he asked, with a smirk. “I thought we had a date?”