by Zuko, Joseph
“What are your kids’ names again?” Frank is halfway done with his cigarette.
“Valerie and Robin,” I choke a little on the words.
“How old?”
“Valerie’s five. She just started school and loves it. Robin is two. She’s a fiery redhead. Her hair looks a lot like yours.” I point at Sara. When I think about my kids even a little my heart wants to explode. My wife can take care of herself. She can run and kill an infected if she has to. Kids do not understand. They will only be scared. “What about you? Any kids?”
“I had a boy,” Frank leaves it at that.
Someone is at the door. Before it opens the lights go out and it is pitch black. I fucking hate the dark. Even as an adult I have a night light in my bedroom. It is not for the kids or my wife. It is for me. A second later the door opens and they blind us with a powerful light. I can’t see anything.
“Turn around and put your hands in the fucking air!” they command. Hands push us to turn our backs to them. A black fabric sack is jammed down over my head. The asshole hits the gash on my forehead and the pain cripples me. My hands are pulled behind my back and zip tied. They drag me out of the storage room.
“What do you want?!” I shout.
“Let us go! Fuckers!” yells Sara.
The bag on my head is tightly woven. I can’t see shit. They shove me down the hallway. I can’t breathe. I have never been this afraid. None of the infected has filled me with this much outright terror.
I am forced to my knees. This is it. They are going to execute me. I am never going to see my family again. I will never see another sunrise. My family won’t even know what has happened to me. I will end up in a shallow grave with a bullet to the skull. Maybe they will chop my head off and I will still turn. Then I will be a severed head, still chomping my rotted teeth and sitting next to my lifeless body in that grave forever. Fuck, I know how to depress myself.
Someone in the room works quickly at a computer keyboard. They type wildly and pause every now and then. A printer spits out sheet after sheet. Someone organizes a handful of papers at a desk in front of us.
“Jim Blackmore?” A powerful voice asks from behind the desk.
“Yeah!”
“Sara Foster?” the voice questions.
“Yes,” she whimpers.
“Frank Ellwood?”
“Fuck you!” Frank declares. Now that is how you sound tough. Frank is going to get us killed, but he sounds grizzled.
“And Devon McKay?” poor Devon lets out a cry and a snort.
“Where are you all going?” asks the voice.
“Who wants to know?” Frank spits the words from his mouth.
“I am Brother Paul. I decide who stays and who goes. Now where are you going?” we don’t answer. It’s a trick. Devon yelps. They are torturing him. He screams like someone has pulled a fingernail out.
“My apartment!”
Devon lets out a soft cry. They have stopped hurting him.
“To find your family?”
“Yes!”
“Karen, Valerie and Robin?”
“How did you...?”
“I have your license and a working internet. I know everything. Now answer the question!”
“Yes! I’m trying to get back to my family!”
“Good. Sara, where are you going?”
“I’m with Jim, helping him find his family!”
“What about your mother and father? Kristen and Ray?”
“They’re dead!”
“How did they die? I do not see a record of that. Was it today?” Brother Paul shuffles some papers.
“Yes. They were bitten,” she hyperventilates.
“I am sorry for your loss. What were you arrested for a few years back?”
“Spray painting a wall.”
“Not just any wall, but the front of a church and your father worked there as a preacher. Why are you following Jim?”
“He saved me!”
“Did he? From what?”
“I was almost raped...and he saved me.”
“Jim, you are a hero. Now Devon, where are you going?”
“With…Jim.”
“And your parents? Travis and Susan? I see they live in West Linn.”
Devon fights to form the words. “I don’t know what’s happened to them…I was at work.”
“You work with Jim I see. Why did you stay? Why didn’t you go find them?”
“I would have died. Jim saved me.”
“He saved you too? Jim, you are a savior. Do you feel saved right now?” Devon cries.
“Frank-”
Frank cuts him off. “Dead son. Wife and brother eaten by freaks. Never arrested. Not even a Goddamn parking ticket. Let’s get this shit over with.”
“So hostile Mr. Ellwood? Did Jim save you too? Is there a theme here?” Frank doesn’t say a word. “Please do not take The Lord’s name in vain. Not in his house and not ever.”
“Fuck you!”
“I am asking you politely not to swear. Well, I will get right to it. One last question. Are you good Christians?” It must be a trick. Why would he care? What does it matter if we are good Christians? The world is falling apart and he wants to tell us about Jesus. What are we supposed to say? I celebrate Christmas but don’t go to church. Do I dare tell him the truth or what he wants to hear?
“It is not a trick question,” Brother Paul walks over to us. I can feel his presence. He is only feet from us. A drink is poured. I can smell the alcohol.
“The world is coming to an end. My flock and I have been preparing for this Day of Judgment. We have spent years readying ourselves for the worst. It is only a matter of time before we are ushered into the loving embrace of our Lord, but until that day I must keep my people alive.”
He is a good preacher. I will give him that. It is like listening to an incredible salesman. Every word is perfectly timed and given the exact inflection needed for maximum impact. Something trickles down my face and neck. It is difficult to tell if it is blood or sweat. My forehead throbs with pain.
“What I really want to know is, are you evildoers? It sounds silly, I know. Evildoers. What I mean is, there will be no law enforcement after today. No one to police the masses. No one to watch if you have committed a crime. Against man or God. I do not want people running around Vancouver murdering every person they meet.”
A gun cocks behind us. Devon and Sara let out soft whimpers. I am going to blow this bag off my head I am breathing so hard.
“I need to see my family again! Please! They need me!”
“I have no doubt that you would do whatever it takes to protect them, but I will also do whatever it takes to keep us safe.” He moves around the room and sips his booze. “I am a busy man. So tell me, can I trust you to be good Christians?”
“YES!” I shoot the word from my mouth.
“And the rest of you?”
“YES!” They yell.
“I will only give you this one warning. If you cross me, I will make you and your families suffer.” He moves back in front of us. He is face to face with me.
“Jim, I know everything about you. I know where all of your family members live. I trust you. I trust you to always do right. Know that I will hold you personally responsible for your people,” he rests his hands on my shoulders. “God has told me that you are good. He has whispered in my heart and revealed to me your true colors. I know you are a good man. A good family man, just like me,” Brother Paul rubs my shoulders and gives them a little pat. His hands linger on my body. “Return their weapons and guns. Give them a radio. If you get settled and need something, we broadcast on channels eleven and fourteen. We will need to keep the car. Sorry, but good running vehicles like yours will be hard to find over the next few weeks.” He lets go of my shoulders and another set grabs me from behind and raises me to my feet. They force us back out of the room and down a hall. The bustle of people working fills the air. We are back in the room where they were unloadin
g their supplies.
Another door opens and I am shoved outside. The warmth sun beats down on the black bag. Bits of sun penetrate the fabric. “Stop here,” a voice commands. The zip tie is cut, and my hands are freed. The bag is ripped from my head. I squint my eyes as they adjust to the sun. My eyes focus. Piles of bodies cover the ground outside the barricades. Two people are on their knees by one of the piles, with black bags over their heads. A man stands behind them and fires two shots into the back of both of their heads. The bodies fall forward onto the pile of the dead. I quickly turn to face the person that has released me. It’s the big guy with the toothpick.
“What was that?” I point at the fresh kills.
“Them?” he grunts.
“Yes, them. Why kill them?” I am scared to ask. I don’t want it to happen to me, but I don’t understand it.
“Were they bit?” asks Sara.
“They had violent criminal backgrounds. That is who Brother Paul was talking about,” he shifts the pick from one side to the other.
“What if you’re all wrong?” Frank spits.
“Wrong?” Toothpick smirks.
“What if they find a cure? What if this isn’t Revelations? You think God wants you killing people?” Frank puffs out his chest.
“It is not up to me. If Brother Paul says kill them, we kill them,” Toothpick pokes his finger into Frank’s chest.
“You’re okay with committing murder?” I ask with full sincerity. It catches Toothpick off guard. I see it in his eyes. He is conflicted.
“God tells Brother Paul who stays and who goes. There is no higher command than God,” Toothpick rests his hand on the gun strapped to his body.
“Nothing ridiculous about that,” Frank says sarcastically.
“Brother Paul talks directly with The Almighty. God tells him who to trust,” Toothpick points back at the church. “Every man, woman and child in there is alive because of Brother Paul. We would do anything for that man. He will see us to the Promise Land,” he gives me a wink. Great, I have a neighbor that talks directly with God and has an army of gun wielding followers at his command. I feel safer already.
Another man has our weapons and passes them back to each of us. He sports a short crewcut that makes him look like Forest Gump. I slide all of the knives and machetes back onto my belt. He hands me my spear. It feels wonderful in my hands. I missed having it.
“Nice spear,” Gump sneers. I look at the rifle hanging off his shoulder.
“I don’t have to reload it,” I retest the blade to check if it is solid, “How many have you killed?”
Gump gives me a nasty smile. “Plenty and the day has just started.”
“What are you going to do if you run out of ammo?” Frank questions.
“We have enough to kill everyone in Vancouver. Twice,” Toothpick says proudly. Frank re-straps his shoulder holsters and takes his bag.
“Where’s my SKS?” Frank grunts.
“In the bag,” Toothpick grunts back.
“Here’s the radio. It has a fresh set in it. Do not call us unless you really, really need us,” Gump hands it over to me.
“We got our own fucking problems so do not bug us,” Toothpick raises his rifle and aims it behind us. He quickly fires a single shot. We spin around. The second my head turns an infected falls to its face. The shot was a hundred yards away and Toothpick nailed it right between the eyes.
“See you around,” says Gump as the two of them walk away.
“Holy shit,” I say it under my breath. It was remarkable.
We circle up and get ourselves sorted.
“You’re bleeding,” says Sara as she wipes the tears away from her face.
“I thought so,” I drag my hand over my forehead. “I’ll be fine. Is everyone okay?” Devon’s eyes are drenched with tears. I grab him by his backpack and pull him close to me.
“It’s okay?” I say quietly.
“Yeah,” he has the snubs.
“What did they do to you?” Sara clears her throat.
“I don’t know. They held something cold to my neck. I don’t know what it was. I thought a knife. I don’t know.” he can’t look me in the eyes. I give him a little shake with the backpack strap, like I am shaking off the bad vibes.
“Don’t worry about it.” I tell him, Devon nods his head.
Our powwow is broken up when another round of gunfire pierces our ears. Behind the church is a giant field with trees surrounding the edges. A large pack of infected storm out of the trees and are gunned down immediately.
A car full of people pulls into the back of the church. They get the same greeting we did. It’s a lot better being on this side of it. I look back at the tree line and focus on which way to go.
“Take 139th. It is not too bad,” Gump yells back at us. I give him a halfhearted wave. I really do not get them. They let us go and give us back all our weapons, but totally screw us by taking our car. We need to get out of here before God changes his mind.
“You guys ready?” I look my crew over. Frank has his SKS locked and loaded. Devon has his spear at the ready. Sara has her machete gripped tight in her hand. “Good. Let’s go.”
I take a sip of water. I am gassing out so I take another long drag. I take off and jog past the barricade. The cut on my ankle kills with every step. We head for a clearing in the trees. Back on foot. Marvelous.
Chapter 16
One mile. One more goddamn mile of pain before I get home to my family. On a treadmill at the gym I can finish a mile in less than eight minutes. That is if I am fresh, not suffering from a hangover or went too hard on leg day. That is also on a rubber surface and in an air conditioned room. Out here on the hard, hot, deadly streets we will be lucky to get a mile done in a half hour. We creep up slowly to the tree line behind the church and pass by the infected that Toothpick gunned down. The blood soaked letterman’s jacket tells me that it is a local high school kid. He is only a few years younger than Devon and Sara. It is quiet on the other side of the trees. I push through a set of evergreens. Ahead of us is a little backyard. There is a dog house, a trampoline and some outdoor kids’ toys, but no sign of movement. I take a knee in the grass. The two trees give us a little hiding place to watch from. I turn to face the team.
“Let’s keep it quiet. Only shoot if you have to. Stay close,” I turn back around and there is an infected sprinting out of the house. I was not ready and I miss it with my spear. I catch it in its shoulder. The force knocks me to my butt. Devon is ready and stabs it right up its nose. I pull out my spear and Frank helps me up to my feet.
I sneak out from the trees and head straight for the side of the house. There is an old beat up truck in the driveway. It blocks the view of the street. Both front tires are flat and it is covered in rust. This hunk of junk has been here a long time. It is a tetanus shot waiting to happen so I steer clear of the busted up grill. We have to squeeze between the house and the truck. It is so close my shoulders grind on the wall and the quarter panel of the Ford. I stop at the edge of the house and give the street a good look. It looks normal. By that I mean there is not a horde of infected looking to tear us apart. There are piles in the street. Good sized piles of human meat. It looks like World War II footage. Behind the scenes of the concentration camps. The worst parts of mankind on film. We can thank Brother Paul for this horrific scene. Must be how Gump knew that 139th was not “too bad.”
I take off across the driveway and into the next yard. It has a few large trees and some shrubs to camouflage us. We squat down behind the foliage. I look out to see if the next block is clear. Frank pulls at my sleeve.
“Are we gonna red rover from tree to tree the whole way?” he grumbles. “If I lead the way I can blast down close to sixty of them before I’d have to reload. We sprint hard and go as far as we can. Then find a house to hole up in as I reload and you three keep them off me.”
“That sounds good,” Sara backs him. I am afraid to get caught out in the open, surrounded with no escape
, but I can’t wait to get home.
“How’s your ankle?” Devon looks down at the dark red bandage wrapped around my ankle.
I nod my head. “It kills, but I think you’re right. We need to move fast,” I pat Frank on the back. “You lead.”
Frank stands up, readjusts his bag, pulls out the clip on his SKS and checks to make sure it is still full. He snaps it in and pulls back the bolt. He takes off charging down the front yard and out into the street. We follow right behind.
I hang to Frank’s left. Devon is on his right. Sara stays behind between Devon and I. We form a flying V. I scan the west side of the street. We roll past house after house and zig-zag past the dead. Brother Paul’s teams have been very busy in the few hours since this started. The piles of ex-humans are so foul. Each one has a solid foot of sour goop circled around it. Even out in the open the smell of the sun soaked corpse wreaks havoc on my already suffering nose. I thought I smelled bad. When I was a kid my Dad would make runs to the dump. He would take my brother and me along to help empty the back of his truck. The only part of it I remember is the smell. That almost sweet smell of old junk getting tossed into one immense mountain.
One of the houses on the block has boarded up its doors and windows. A set of eyes watch us from the second story. I am glad to see that not every house has been abandoned. Straight ahead of us is an apartment complex. That is the problem with this area. Tons of people stacked on top of each other, apartment complex after apartment complex. So many people to try and save. So many people to turn into the infected. Frank fires a quick three shot burst. His gun is louder than I thought it would be. He cut down an infected in the intersection. A caravan of cars blast down the street and run right over the fresh kill. The body’s crushed into paste. It is a couple of trucks and a sedan. They are filled to the brim with people and supplies.
We enter the intersection quickly and the street to our left is overrun. The infected are headed our way. We pick up the pace. Frank takes down those at the head of the pack.
