by Annie Walls
I cover my head and ears as debris flies all over me. Some of the putrids have fallen over from the explosions, making it smell like burnt cheese mixed in a used, restroom toilet. I don’t have time to worry about Mac and Reece, I just have to get to them.
I turn to run in the other direction, slipping on blood, and my boot squeaks on the slick floor. I catch myself on a rack, my right arm windmilling. The rack tilts slightly causing items on it to tumble down onto me, and crash to the floor. Luckily, nothing hurts. Either that or my adrenaline keeps me from feeling it. Regaining my balance, I let go of the rack in order to keep running. The rack smashes down behind me.
Coming around a corner, I smack into a body, and strong hands grab my arms. “Kan!” It’s Mac. His stark white shirt glows from the fire, and it reflects in his wide eyes.
“Shit! Famished and putrids all over. We need to leave!” I shout the obvious, my hearing still filled with static.
He pushes me out of the way. “Yeah, I know,” he shouts back, pulling his gun to fire rounds into the aisle I just emerged from. His shots make my ears ring all the more. I think he just wants to shoot something.
“You’re wasting bullets! Will you give my ears a rest? They are going to start bleeding!” I shout some more.
“Whhuuut?” he yells, mocking me by cupping a hand around his ear. Smiling at his joke, he grabs my arm. “Let’s go,” he says urgently. We look around every aisle while hurrying to the van.
Mac shoots more putrids on the way out. I ignore them as long as they aren’t in our way. Reece has already started the van, and waits on us. We jump in, and before we can even get the door closed, he peels out of Wal-Mart.
“Kan, are you all right?” Mac asks first thing, looking me over. Neither one of them look as appalling as I do covered in zombie crud and guts. It’s already starting to dry on my skin. “There were probably a hundred putrids. They came out of nowhere. Must have been hiding out of the sun. Reece lit the bombs, so we could get to you.” He’s breathing heavy. Hell, all three of us are strung out on zombie battle adrenaline.
Reece chimes in merrily. “Those bombs work perfect!”
I’m trying to calm myself, just glad he didn’t blow us up from the old meth lab. My ears are still muted, but I can hear faintly. “Yeah, I heard them. I thought the building was going to collapse, or worse, explode with us in it,” I say, and Mac flinches back from my loud talk. I can tell he wants to make another joke, but I go on with a lower voice, “People had been living there. I found used sleeping bags and empty cold medicine packaging." Mac looks at me sharply. "I’m guessing they were the famished I ran into. We should’ve pulled a Tallahassee, and played a banjo,” I joke as my hearing returns, thankfully.
“Maybe we can go to Bill Murray’s house,” Mac sniggers.
“Yeah, and smoke out of his hookah,” Reece says as if it’s the greatest idea ever. We all laugh, trying to shake away the close call. I don’t want to think about how close. We are all too familiar with the consequences of such trips like these. There are always risks.
Looking at my jacket, zombie muck congeals on it. I sigh. That’s karma for you. I strip it off with my T-shirt. Reece hands me a towel, and I wipe my face and scrub at the gore. Mac takes off his white T-shirt, and gives it to me before pulling on the red hoodie from the back of the van.
“Thanks.” I smile in appreciation as I slip on his shirt, slowly because he’s watching, and not bothering to hide it either.
He shrugs, looking a little disappointed, “I’d rather you be without it.”
I grin at him, “Dick for brains.” My jacket goes over the T-shirt. I’m not letting it go. I’ll scrub it when we get back to the community. Stained or not.
“Those people were living out in the open. Without any protection, they drew in putrids. I wonder why they didn’t get eaten alive?” I reason out loud.
“One of them could have been bit, didn’t say anything to the others, and things escalated,” Reece points out.
Mac looks out the window as we pull onto the road, heading for another destination. “Maybe. My guess would be, they were living in a Wal-Mart. Using and cooking methamphetamine. Got taken by surprise trying to escape with any supplies they could grab, hence the zombie with the bag. It could also explain why the doors were open, and no vehicles in the parking lot. Maybe someone managed to escape."
I shake my head, “Lovely,” I say dryly. They nod their agreement. Breathing normal again, my adrenaline high is dissipating quickly. I really shouldn’t voice this, but I do anyway. “That was fun.”
Mac shoots me a grin because for once, I’m not being sarcastic.
***
The Target department store is much easier. This time we do a little banging around. No putrids to deal with, but Target has been looted of most of the food and electronics. The things people take to priority, when the shit hits the fan, never ceases to amaze me. I’m able to get a few more sleeping bags, baseball bats, and white T-shirts. I get enough for the whole team in case they need them. Mac also picks up some jeans and socks for everyone.
Upon looting a home improvement store, Reece demands our attention, because he finds several wooden pallets in the back of PVC pipes. The most we’ve ever come across. We pile the van full, having to keep the hatch open, and tie them down securely.
Reece looks at all the leftover pipe we have to leave behind, not to mention another few skids of chlorine and hydrochloric acid. He rubs his stubbly tattooed head in mounting frustration. “I don’t want to leave these.”
“We don’t have anywhere to store it at the community. Not to mention, the gas it would take going back and forth per load,” I reason. This is true. Reece does not have any more space in his room or at his booth. Last time I walked through his room, it was packed to the ceiling. We had a hard enough time finding a secret place to make them. I have to admit barely having a hand in it. Reece is determined to master this skill, always having his head in a book or trying a new recipe. His interest is astounding, and he’s come a long way from our first little cherry bomb that wouldn’t blow up my own hand if we tried. He’s only grown more attached, as if he’s addicted.
I can understand his frustration, since we’ve had a hard time finding exactly the right things in the right amounts. Looking at this find, it’s a complete gold mine to him. I sigh, tapping my foot and picking at my cuticle. “Reece stay here. Mac and I are going to drive up the road a ways.”
Reece and Mac both peer at me in question. I try not to smile at the hope in Reece’s eyes. “Why?”
“I’m not making any promises, but we need to find a semi with an empty trailer. And gas.”
Mac speaks up, “You know how to get one started?”
“I’ve never tried, but I’m up to the challenge.”
***
Three and half hours, a handbook, three battery exchanges, four different trucks, and an endless string of curses later, I pull the van back into the home improvement store delivery docks. Catching sight of Reece leaning against a brick wall, I grin from ear to ear, but it slips when I realize he’s a mess, watching a burning piles of bodies.
The semi rumbles behind me as the amateur driver comes to a stop. Jumping out of the van, I ask, “What happened to you?”
Reece points to the trees behind me. “Famished.” He tried cleaning himself up a bit, but he looks spooked. He grins letting me know he’s okay, gesturing to the semi. “Took you long enough.”
Looking back, Mac stands behind me studying the burning corpses. He’s not in a good mood. From the look on his face, Reece’s comment burns like a lit fuse in his brain. Mac finally turns a glare on Reece, the fuse must have ended. “She got you the semi, so you can continue your pyro tendencies. Who gives a fuck how long it took? If it was up to me, we’d be back at the community by now.” Reece straightens as tall as he can, hackles rising. Mac points to me and I flinch. “She was almost electrocuted.”
“I was not almost electrocuted. I knew it was
a live wire!” I jump to my defense, mostly because he’s right. Continuing on quickly, “Besides, we were all almost killed today.” I gesture to the burning bodies as Mac moves to stand in front of me. “We need to load the semi and get out here before anymore famished show up.”
He stares at me for a long moment, before looking back to Reece, “You’re driving the damn thing.”
After everything is loaded in the truck, I ride with Reece in the semi while Mac drives the van. On our way back to the interstate, the reference books I have at my former house pop into my mind.
“We’re close to my old house. We should see about those books while we’re here.”
He immediately wants directions. “Your boyfriend won’t be happy, but I don’t care.”
***
“Don’t get your hopes up Reece. I set fire to the house. The books were in the bunker. I have no way of knowing if they survived. If they didn’t get it put out, then the house could have collapsed.” I don’t relish seeing it for myself. Even though Mac already knew what happened, I tell Reece about Harley, Nadine, Bridget, and Kale.
Reece nods, “They shouldn’t be a problem. I have a pipester for a distraction.” I grin at his made up name for the bombs. I have him park where I parked Rhonda the Honda the night I set the fire. Mac pulls up beside us, getting out he does a good job of keeping his mouth shut, his way of making up for his uncalled-for outburst.
Reece goes out about three hundred yards the other way to detonate the bomb. I will be able to see if the Lollipop Gang goes toward the sound. It will take them more time to try to figure out what happened.
Ten minutes after Reece throws the bomb, he comes back. Maybe they moved on? Which was what I’d wanted them to do by way of fire. Finally, Harley, Nadine, and Bridget scurry toward it. Guess they had to figure out what to do about the sound. I almost laugh that they decide to go together.
I sprint forward with Mac and Reece following. We make it into the neighborhood, and dart between fences. When I see my house, I stop. It’s burnt, but still standing. Scorch marks crawl up the bricks like ghosts of the flames. The windows are boarded up.
“I’m guessing this is it?” Mac asks with excitement.
I shoot him a look, “You’re excited?”
He nods, “Yeah, another piece of Kansas puzzle.” I laugh despite myself. Of course he would see it that way.
I lead them up the walk, through gate, and peer around. They are living here. Clothes dangle from my old clothing lines. A pain pierces my chest, I want to leave.
“Reece, keep watch,” I say. “I need to get something out of the house.”
Going up the patio steps, Mac follows. Burnt wood and old things drift to my nose as I go inside. Peering around, my heart lurches at the sight of my family home from the old life. Everything’s destroyed. I can see straight to the front of the house from where walls have collapsed. A hole takes up the kitchen floor. I remember the tequila spilling onto the floor catching fire.
I swallow, hoping what I came for made it. Mac squeezes my hand. I look at him, glad for his reassuring presence. Checking the floor, I walk toward the master bedroom. The model jewelry box lies on its side on the floor, scorched, but being on the floor kept the fire from ruining it. When I open it, I find the precious metals have melted somewhat, but they’re still valuable.
“Smart,” Mac comments.
I sigh, “If I was smart I would have gotten them before setting the house on fire.” He just smiles at me and helps me shove gold, silver, and diamonds into our pockets – a string of pearls that had been in my mother’s family for generations.
My dad, being a traditional man, gave my mother gemstones on the proper wedding anniversaries. For their fifth year, he gave her a charm bracelet with a dangling sapphire. A new charm was added every year after that. For their fifteenth, ruby earrings. A platinum ring with an emerald for their twentieth. An imperial topaz charm for the bracelet on their twenty-third year of marriage. Their last.
“Looks like your mom was a lucky woman,” he whispers as I realize I was explaining all of them out loud. A flash of her passed out with a bottle between her legs goes through my mind.
“Yeah. Lucky.” I don’t know if I would trade these, but I take everything, the majority looted from neighboring houses.
Reece waits outside and gives us curious looks as I open the bunker door. It has been cleaned of the debris I made to escape. The calico brick and blocks are no longer the soothing presence they once were. The ceiling, the floor of the house, is darkened brown, obviously it came close to catching fire and collapsing. How did they put it out? When I left, I thought the fire was big enough to destroy the place. I sigh.
“You built this?” Mac asks, looking around in amazement.
“Yes, but my dad did the stairs.” I smirk at his look, but quickly go to the bookshelf and start pulling out volumes. I point to a box, “Will you hand me that?” He dumps out the crap out of it, and hands it to me. I start throwing books in it. Mac flips through my album of barn photographs and drawings before sticking it in the box. I squat to reach the lower shelf.
Mac bends over and picks up a picture that fell from a book. I wince, knowing what it is, exactly. It was one of those booth photos, where you take pictures consecutively, and the machine prints them out. Malachi and I were waiting to see the newest horror movie, happy and care free. Two of the pictures are of us kissing.
“Is this the guy at the base?” Mac asks, looking down at me.
“What?” My voice cracks.
“This is Malachi?” he asks curiously. What? How did he know about Malachi? I’ve never uttered his name to anyone. I’m completely bewildered now.
I don’t ask him how he knows. My jaw clenches. “Malachi has been dead for four years,” I say solemnly, looking him in the eyes. “I know this because I shot him. With a gun. In the head.” His eyes widen as my tone turns to cold steel with each word.
I’m interrupted from asking him questions when Reece says, “They’re coming.”
Grabbing the picture, I throw it and several more books in the box with shaking hands.
Cocking guns and grappling from outside makes me hurry. “Well, well, I’ll bet the princess is in there.” Harley laughs, “I knew she’d come back for those books. Come on out Kan, or I’ll shoot your friend.”
“He doesn’t know I have guns, or you.” I whisper to Mac.
“Don’t worry, I’m a good shot. You focus on the ladies.” He winks, trying to lighten my mood.
I stare at him callously. “Try not to kill him.”
When I clear the top of the stairs, Mac’s right behind me. His hand holding a gun comes into my peripheral vision, and he shoots Harley right between the eyes. Brain matter splatters Nadine. Reece rolls out of the way, grabbing his gun. I’m going to be sick.
Nadine screams, “You asshole!” It sounds like more of a sob, but she keeps it under control. Not wiping Harley’s brains and blood off her face, she gives Mac a deadly stare, looking like Carrie at the prom about start throwing things with her mind. She’s so focused on Mac that she doesn’t see my gun train on Bridget. I don’t like how she’s looking at him. I keep my calm, even though Mac just killed a man. Again. I’ll get to him later.
“Nadine, back away. Mac, will you get the box?” Mac goes under to retrieve it. Reece disarms them, throwing the shotgun a few feet away.
“He didn’t have to kill him. He wasn’t going to hurt your friend.” Nadine’s voice shakes with barely suppressed rage, looking down to Harley and his lack of a forehead. Now, she knows how I felt.
“Well, now you have dinner.” She looks up at me and glares.
“That’s two I owe you, bitch!” Bridget speaks up with her limited vocabulary. “Kale is still gone, and I know he went with you.”
“Sorry, I don’t know a Kale.” Mac states as he leaves the bunker with the box. She just scoffs at him.
“Looks like you found another one.” She snarls, as she looks M
ac up and down.
“You know I can shoot you, right?” I ask sarcastically. This conversation’s just weird. “Now, both of you in the bunker.” I steer them under and close the bunker door. Reece and Mac help me load leftover cinderblocks onto it. They’ll get out eventually, but we’ll be long gone.
***
“That was interesting.” Mac states as we bound down the highway, seeming subdued. He talked me into driving the van, to give me something to focus on, I guess. How would I feel if I found a picture of him kissing another girl? Not to mention, snapping at him about Malachi. I didn’t mean to, it was just a shock.
“You killed him, after I told you to try not to,” I emphasize.
He rolls his eyes at me from the passenger seat, “He was killing and eating people. He almost did that to you. He might as well be a zombie.”
Harley didn’t eat me though, and he was going to let me go. I don’t say anything, because Mac could have killed Nadine and Bridget too, but he didn’t. Mac moves a dread lock out of my face, but I don’t turn to him. He gets out the album of barns to look at it.
“You have a knack for capturing Tennessee,” he says.
“How do you know I drew them?” I ask accusingly. How does he know anything? I’d ask him, but I don’t want to get into it. A little part of me is scared of the answer.
“Hmm…maybe because your name is in the bottom right hand corners?” He grins trying to cheer me up.
“I love barns. I painted them,” I confess.
“You’re really something.” I don’t think so. The picture of Malachi floats through my head.
We drive in silence the rest of the way.
Chapter 27
When we get back, it’s around noon. I’m exhausted and want to take a nap before Glinda gets a hold on me. I don’t get to because Glinda’s waiting on us, pouncing when she spots her prey. Me.
