by Lowry, Chris
"Us," I said.
She glanced over her shoulder at the empty room behind her.
"I didn't tell you about my past because..." she trailed off.
I knew.
"Z."
It was her turn to nod and pull away.
"I'm not really married to him," she said. "We didn't go in front of a judge. But he's very religious. Obsessive religious."
I pretended to ignore the shiver that danced up and down her spine.
"He is convinced we are, and when he came by Fort Jasper, I didn't have a choice."
A part of me wanted to argue that we always have a choice.
But then the part of me that keeps helping people instead of focusing on the mission says sit down and shut up. It's not an argument I would win.
"Why not?" I tried to keep my voice neutral and curious.
"He would burn it all down," she locked eyes with mine. "He would have destroyed the place we built once he found out I was inside."
"So, you like that in your men?"
She snickered and reached up to put a hand on my chest.
"You got hurt again."
"It's not so bad now."
"Where are your children?"
"Did Brian tell you what happened?"
"He did."
She stared up at me with tears in her dark brown eyes. I wanted to hold her, to rescue her, that knight inside of me screaming out to do something, anything.
"It's not true."
"Which part? You didn't leave Jasper?"
I waved a hand around at the house we were in and regretted it. It was not a nice thing to do and she didn't deserve it.
"I'm sorry."
Her lip trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks to drop on the bare wood floor.
"You don't have to apologize to me," I told her and then I did pull her into my arms.
She sobbed, but I didn't know why. Or maybe I did. Maybe her heart was torn in two, her husband from before here now, and me, someone special to her in the after.
My heart was hurting, so I can only imagine what hers felt like.
"Your husband-"
She jerked her head back, but kept her hands around my waist.
"He's not my husband," her eyes flashed. "That's just what he calls himself."
"You're not married."
It came out as a series of confused stutters as I tried to wrap my brain around it, but the idea was the same.
"I'm not married. Not to him. Except-"
There it was.
I expected elope. I expected some secret Romeo and Juliet rendezvous that started with declarations of undying love, until everyone around them started to do it and come back to life.
She sighed, her tiny shoulders shivering.
"I'm not married," she said again.
"You told me. But he thinks you are."
"There was a ceremony," she said. "Before I met you. Right after the plague started."
"A ceremony."
"Religious," she continued. "But not my religion. Not a real religion at any rate, except for what he believes. More like a cult."
"Is he one of those guys who thinks he's a prophet?"
She shook her head.
"Not quite. But he worked for one."
Like Phil. Working for the Mayor.
Or the Giant. Working for Mags.
Everyone had an assistant.
Maybe that was my problem in the after Z world. I kept trying to go it alone. I needed a backup.
"I married him in the eyes of the cult," she said. "But not for real. Not legal, not in church, or at least one of the traditional churches."
She sobbed again and I pulled her close.
"I don't really know what the rules are anymore," I rubbed her back and stroked her fine hair. "But I think we get to make up some as we go along."
"He was going to destroy it all," she sniffled. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt."
"Did they?"
"No."
"Then you did the right thing."
"But now?"
"Now," I told her. "You're safe. I've got some work to do, some people to talk with, and kids to save."
"But us-"
She couldn't say more.
Neither could I.
I'd like to say that emotion overwhelmed us, that our passion for each other got the better of us and we devolved into a sweating pile of limbs and moaning grunts on the floor.
There was sweat.
Lots of grunting.
And one long moan.
Mine.
But it wasn't for anything fun.
A group of men kicked in the door and dragged us outside in the dark.
The Mayor waited with Phil and a couple of the pokers.
I could see Anna's husband standing behind them.
"You've been a naughty naughty boy," the Mayor crowed. "I told you, I've got a thing for rules."
Anna screamed. They thrust her into the arms of her husband and he smacked her across the face with the back of his hand.
"Want his head Sir?" Phil was dancing from foot to foot, ready to send the pokers in to do the job.
Two of the bigger men held my arms, and I was trying to work out the logistics of fighting free.
Drop so they lost their grip, roll, kick, sweep the legs.
The Mayor took two big steps and slugged me under the chin.
"Not yet," he giggled. "I've got a better idea."
They dragged me away from the house to a small park across the street.
I watched him lean over and whisper to one of the pokers, and the young man sprinted toward the center of town.
"Now you know I'm a man for good speeches," the Mayor said to the men around him. "I like to set examples with rulebreakers so that others might learn from their mistakes."
A third man tied my arms and feet behind me with belts.
I should have dropped when I had the chance.
The kid came running back with a coil of rope and passed it to the Mayor. Anna tried to scream again.
"Take your woman home," the Mayor ordered.
Then he slipped a noose over my head and passed the coil to one of the men who tossed it over a tree limb.
"They say a wise man learns from another's mistakes, a fool from his own," the Mayor touched the tip of his nose to mine.
"Guess which one you are?"
The rope went tight and dragged me up into the air.
“You shouldn’t have hurt my brother,” he said.
I kicked both feet together, I wiggled, but the noose just got tighter.
"Tie it off and let's go have a drink," the Mayor circled his fingers.
They tied off the rope to the trunk of the tree and I had the chance to watch them walk away, going for a drink and wished I could have one.
I wondered what would happen to my kids.
Blue stars popped in front of my eyes, my brain screaming, but I couldn't make any noise.
The dark got darker, the noise of the group moving out of the park and away like going into a tunnel.
I didn't see a bright light at the end and had a moment to wonder if I was just too bad to see it.
Then it was dark and I heard my heart stop pumping.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Fire.
That's what it felt like. Racing through my veins. Pressure on my chest.
Hurt.
Hurt a lot.
Pounding. Burning. Steady.
I could count. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Then someone kissed me. It was a weird kiss. No tongue. And she was breathing into my mouth.
No.
Blowing.
And she needed to shave.
I opened my eyes and the blurry world came into focus. I saw Brian lean down and kiss me again.
Then I coughed.
Hiccupped and coughed some more.
Brian was crying. So was Peg.
We were in the dark space between two houses, light spilling from an oil
gas lantern next to my head.
"They almost got you," he sobbed and wiped his drippy nose.
I tried to sit up, but nothing worked. Did they break my neck?"
"I think they did," I croaked.
Or tried. My voice didn't work either.
There wasn't much use for a crippled mute now. Unless it was Z bait.
I wiggled my toes.
It was something.
Peg ran her hand over my hair and smoothed it back.
The toe wiggles moved up to my thighs. Blood pumping hard through a heart that still hurt.
Still burned.
Battery acid in my veins.
My fingers moved.
I told them to do it again. They did.
Peg took one hand, Brian the other and they massaged them. They moved up my arms, shoulders. Rubbing hard.
I don't know how it helped.
But it did.
I still ached. But fifteen minutes later, I could move.
Sit up. Breath deep. Like rasping through a straw.
"We have to get you out of here," said Brian.
"Give me another minute," I answered. "I've never died before."
"We need to get out of here," Brian hissed again.
His eyes were roaming around the darkness, searching for anyone who might stumble across us.
We could hear raucous laughter a few streets over, the remnants of the biker gang celebrating their victory.
If you could call it that.
There were twelve of them, and just one of me.
I felt something flip over in my stomach as the rage bubbled. up. Injustice always made me angry.
I pushed up to my feet and was really surprised when I kept going and didn't even close my eyes as the ground came up to meet my face.
I spit dirt out of my mouth.
"Guess I'm not ready for that yet."
Nothing like a good faceplant to make the rage die down a little. Maybe it was a dignity thing.
"You have some smut in your teeth."
"I think you mean schmutz?"
"Do I?"
"Yeah, smut is porn."
"Do you have to discuss this now?" Peg's harsh whisper cut between us.
"I've got porn teeth," I whispered back.
"Nobody wants that," said Brian.
"You're going to have no teeth if we stay here," she warned.
She was right.
I mean there was nothing like being dead to make you appreciate a joke, but I decided I didn't feel like dying again, not anytime soon.
"I know where we can go."
This time I made it to my feet with their help. Peg steadied me while Brian checked the road.
"We can't go. But we can get you out of here."
I took a baby step forward, found it worked and took another. The nerve endings in my legs were responding well, and I only looked like a full drunk sailor stumbling back to port after a weekend pass.
Maybe I felt like one too. It was still hard to breath.
I felt my neck and was only mildly surprised at the giant welt, thick and bumpy that scarred the skin.
"Get me out of here," I rasped. "I know where I can go."
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
They got me outside of the gate through a secret passage.
Those were dumb ideas in impenetrable fortresses, and someone should have assigned a patrol just to look for easy access points, but no one had yet.
Which made me glad for the secret.
Brian slipped a pistol into my hand, Peg kissed me on the cheek.
"You don't have to do that."
"It's all I've got," he said. "They would miss the bigger guns."
"I meant a kiss on the cheek."
"You need to shave," he said. "Before these lips go there."
They went back in and closed the opening and I couldn't tell where the fence ended and it began.
I was alone in the dark, resurrected and armed.
Things were definitely looking up.
I should have left then.
Gone back to the compound in Kentucky, taken out whoever needed taking out to get my kids free.
Forget about Brian and Peg. Phil and the Mayor.
Forget about Anna.
They made a choice to be here, and it would be safe for them. Safe enough.
I started walking in the woods, moving fast, but not quite running.
Is that how it starts? People wonder how dictators get their power, or if they would kill baby Hitler if they had the chance. Or baby Pol Pot.
Brian was giving up freedom. One piece at a time. One liberty at a time.
I shook my head.
Who sounds like a damn patriot when there wasn’t a USA anymore. There were small kingdoms now, small potentates and caliphates and whatever you wanted to name the fiefdoms that popped up in the vacuum created by the zombie apocalypse.
Strong men would rule over the weak, and declare themselves kings or chiefs or Mayor’s.
It’s just what was done.
And it wasn’t always men. I thought about Mags. Her devious nature, her ability to build a network and power base.
It was too much.
I should have been paying attention.
A Z lurched out of the darkness with a low moan and latched on to my arm.
I twisted sideways and used an accidentally Aikido move to hip check it on the ground and stomped its head in.
The pistol would have been too noisy.
Then I stood for a few moments over the reeking corpse and tried to calm down.
Get my head in the game.
I was walking through a strange forest in the dark. I didn’t have time to ponder or think about the reasons why things were happening.
I had a mission.
A mission could bring me back on track.
Focus.
On the goal.
Get the kid’s free. Easier said than done, but getting Mag’s people to go back would make that happen.
But I knew where more help might be.
And if not help, maybe a distraction that could let me get the job done.
After that, maybe I’d come back and help the others.
Or just let them deal with it on their own.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
It was quiet.
I always thought it was funny when someone was sneaking up on something on television and they said it was too quiet.
It became a cliché, a way of saying a big scary boogeyman was going to jump out of the bushes and drag you into a lake.
But at that moment, I knew what they meant.
Too quiet.
No crickets.
No tree frogs.
No moans, no wind, nothing to stir the leaves and grass.
It was still.
Kinji was well trained.
She didn't bark as I stumbled up the trail, one hand absently rubbing the rope burn on my throat.
She didn't growl when I found the fence and saw the torn down section a few panels over.
The dog was gone.
But Mel was not.
Someone had killed her near her doorstep and ransacked her cabin. The outdoor kitchen was destroyed, the food gone, her pots and cutlery spread across the dirt.
The cabin door was open and inside was worse. Everything of value was gone, and all that was left was a mess and piss.
And crap.
Someone took a crap in the dead woman's cabin.
I looked down at her corpse.
At least it was a head shot. She wouldn't be coming back Z.
I needed to bury her, but not in the dark.
First things first. Fix the fence.
It wasn't a job to do by moonlight. It took longer than I expected, but I found wood, and kindling and a couple of wooden matches in the soil next to the cabinet where she kept food, and got a fire going.
It was in the pit, and I rolled the log seats around it to block the flickering flames.
Then I fixed the fe
nce, though without tools, it was more like propping it up.
It wouldn't hold much out, but it would serve as an early warning for anything that tried to come through.
No tools meant I'd have to find something to dig with tomorrow. No food meant a night spent hungry, but it wasn't the first time.
I settled with my back against a log and hunkered down.
The still of the night haunted me. I knew I wouldn't sleep.
I'd been dead a few hours ago, and now the trauma of being hung was playing out in my mind.
I watched it three, then four times in my head and shivered.
Then the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I glanced around.
Something was watching me from the woods, two red eyes glowing in the dark.
It wasn't afraid of fire.
I thought bear.
The fence wouldn't hold it out for long. Maybe I could make the cabin, but even that was paper thin to razor sharp claws.
I actually hoped it was a mountain lion. If I could beat it to the cabin, I stood a chance.
Whatever it was, the animal was drawn by the dead body, thinking it was dinner.
I felt around in the dirt, wishing for a stick, a branch or anything, but nothing came to hand.
The eyes moved, bouncing closer.
I tucked my legs under me and got ready to sprint.
Bark.
My heart leaped.
The bark was loud in the darkness, cutting through the night and seemed like it would carry for miles.
But I smiled too.
Because Kinji was on the other side of the fence, tail wagging.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
There were pieces of the puzzle I didn't have.
But when the sun came up that morning, I found one.
A boot print.
It looked like a motorcycle boot. Could have been the Mayor's size. Could have been one of Mag's men.
No way to know, and for as much as it mattered, I didn't care.
He was going to die. I was almost convinced she would too.
The how was the hard part.
I scratched Kinji's head as I mulled it over.
I wasn't sure if anyone inside would help me, except Brian and Peg if they could.
I’ve always had trouble turning my brain off sometimes.
The lack of oxygen from earlier in the night was doing something to my thought process. Add to that the stress of my kids, the fear of being a bear burrito and a Z fight all combined to make sleep impossible.
