by Russ Watts
“So what are you saying?” asked Jonas. “Did she ask Gabe about it?”
“No, she wanted to wait for you.”
“Well, there you are. I’m sure there’s an explanation,” said Erik. “If that’s all you’ve got to worry about…”
“Come on, Erik.” Quinn stood up and walked over to the door. “I’m trying to tell you that things aren’t necessarily what they seem. You weren’t here when Gabe was shouting at Peter, telling him he was a pervert for spying on Mara in the shower. You should talk to Mrs. Danick. Look, just get changed and come downstairs will you? Both of you. We’re all gathering in the library before lunch.”
As Quinn slammed the door behind her, Jonas looked at Erik. “We should go talk to her.”
“Perhaps we should try and let things blow over. It doesn’t sound like much to me.” Erik went out into the corridor, and Jonas followed him into Erik’s makeshift bedroom.
“I know you have your doubts about Quinn,” said Jonas, “but she’s got a level head on her.”
Erik looked at Jonas with surprise.
“Yeah, I can read you too, and I know when something’s on your mind. You’ve never fully believed in her. What is it?” he asked Erik.
Erik pulled on a tight black polo top emblazoned with the Saint Paul’s logo on the chest. “She’s fine, but we don’t know anything about her. Before she turned up on our doorstep, what was she? Who was she?”
“Does it matter?” asked Jonas. “As far as I’m concerned she’s one of us. She’s never let us down, she always pulls her weight, and if she thinks something is up we at least ought to listen to her.”
“I guess.” Erik looked at his reflection in the window as the rain battered against it. “I need a shave,” he said rubbing his hands through his untamed red beard.
“Mrs. Danick deserves to be heard too. Come on, Erik, let’s just go down and smooth things over. We don’t need things going pear-shaped now.”
“You’re right, Hamsikker. Shit, is this what it feels like?”
“What’s that?”
“To be an asshole? I thought you had the rights to that.”
“Funny man,” said Jonas. “Let’s go before things get out of hand.”
In the library they found Mrs. Danick studying a photograph on the wall. Quinn was sitting with Terry at the desk where Javier had earlier shown Jonas the map of the country. The map was no longer there, and Javier was stood next to Mrs. Danick pointing out various golf players and long-standing members.
Mrs. Danick saw Erik and Jonas walk into the room. “So I see a lot of staff photos here Gabe, you must be very proud, except…I can’t see you in this one either. What gives?”
“This one was from the Christmas party last year. Unfortunately, I had a bout of the flu, so I missed out. Such a shame. It’s a good photo.”
Mrs. Danick turned to look at Jonas. “Seems you must be very unlucky, Gabe. You missed out on a few. Maye you need to take more vitamins, fight off the bugs.”
Javier smiled. “I was wondering, Mrs. Danick, how you survived so long.”
“You mean on account of me being a little old lady?”
“Well, to be blunt, yes. I mean, there are not exactly a lot of people like you left.” Javier strode over to the window where the rain was steadily beating against it. “I’d say you’re the oldest person in Kentucky right now. Living, that is.”
Mrs. Danick pulled her handbag tight to her chest. “I carry a .38 special snub-nosed revolver with a two inch barrel. Light enough to carry discreetly in my bag without being too heavy for practical use. A .22 caliber would be too small. When I need to take down one of these motherfuckers, I want to be able to blow its brains out with one shot. And trust me - I’ve taken down a lot. If you’d like to let me have my gun back, I’d be happy to show you exactly how good a shot I am.”
Jonas looked at the surprise dawning on Gabe’s face, and then he burst out laughing. Erik followed too with a big booming laugh that echoed around the room. Jonas saw Gabe joining in the laughter, but he could tell Gabe had been offended. It was like they were all laughing at him and not sharing the joke.
“I’m sorry,” said Jonas. “I don’t even know why I’m laughing. Look, Mrs. Danick can handle herself. Believe me, Dakota and I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for her.”
“I see. Okay, okay. Well good for you, Mrs. Danick. I’m pleased to be in such sharp company. May I know your first name?” asked Javier.
“No. My name is Mrs. Danick, and that’s all you need to know, young man. My late husband, God rest his soul, would tear a strip off you for being so impertinent. If he were here now…”
Jonas stifled another laugh. “Mrs. Danick, leave him alone. Gabe, why don’t you…”
“No, no, let her speak. If we are to live under one roof together, we need to be honest with each other. I think Mrs. Danick has a problem with me, so let’s hear it.”
“Can I suggest we save the chat for another time,” said Terry. “I’m worried about this weather. Have you been through many storms here, Gabe? Are the fences strong? Quinn thinks they’re good, but we’ve only had a brief look. Is there anything we need to do to make sure?”
“And I thought Mrs. Danick was the old woman of the group,” said Javier sighing. “It’s Terry, right? Look, you have nothing to worry about. We’ve been through plenty of storms before, and I’m sure we’ll roll right through this one too.” Javier had no idea how Gabe had looked after the place, but was happy to assume that everything was in order.
A rolling thunder boomed out and rattled the windowpane. A few seconds later, and a flash of lightening lit up the room.
“The storm’s getting close,” said Erik. “I think we should…”
Everyone in the room shook as a tearing sound filled the air followed by a tremendous crashing and booming noise from outside. It sounded like the earth itself was being torn apart, and Jonas raced to the window.
“What is it? The fence?” asked Mrs. Danick.
“The TV tower is down. It’s fallen on one of the fence panels. “Oh shit. The dead…” Jonas turned and stared at Erik, his eyes wide open with panic. “They’re in.”
CHAPTER THREE
“We need to get to the weapons before they cut us off. I stashed them out in the workrooms behind the garden. Hamsikker, Quinn, you come with me,” ordered Javier. “Erik, can you…”
“I have to find my family,” said Erik as he backed out of the room. “Get me my gun, Hamsikker. I’ll meet you on the front porch in five.”
Without waiting for an answer, Erik charged out of the room with Mrs. Danick chasing after him. Jonas heard her promise to help find Dakota too.
“Shit, look at them all,” said Terry. He was peering through the window as a succession of grey figures stumbled onto the golf course. “The TV tower brought down a good section of the fence. We’re not getting that back up in a hurry.”
“Terry, forget it, and come help us,” shouted Jonas as he followed Javier out of the room. “We need to hold them back until the others are safe.”
The three men ran from the library, through the clubhouse, and headed to the back entrance. Their feet pounded against the wooden floorboards, and the noise ricocheted around the building, clamoring for attention alongside the thunderstorm raging outside. Javier flung open the door, and they were all immediately hit by a wall of rain. The storm was right overhead, and the sky was so dark that it could have passed for night.
Cold pricks of water hit Jonas in the face as they charged outside, heading for the gardens and the storage sheds. He knew Dakota was safe for now, somewhere inside the clubhouse, but for how long? He looked south at the fallen TV tower. The earth had softened with the rain and caused it to fall right on top of the fence. A stretch had come down, about twenty feet of it, and he could see the zombies coming through. There was nothing to stop them, no barrier at all, and he managed to count a dozen before they reached the workshop. So they had been there all along, packed up ag
ainst the wall, just waiting for an opportunity to get in.
Javier opened the door, and reached down to the pile of weapons he had left on the floor.
“Terry, take these,” said Javier, thrusting a couple of guns at him.
“I’ll take Erik’s Glock and give it to him,” said Jonas picking it up. He trusted Erik to come help, and wanted him to use a gun he was familiar with.
“I’ll leave the door open in case we need more.” Javier pointed out the rows of shovels and hand tools as he stuffed ammo into his pocket. “If things don’t work out, we’re gonna need to get to the white van and the SUV parked out back. I loaded them up in case of an emergency with food, water, and weapons. There’s a hammer, a nail gun, even a hand-held chainsaw. All sorts of stuff we can use.”
“Don’t even think about it,” said Terry. “We are not losing this place. We only just got here, for Christ’s sake.”
Jonas picked up his axe. It was still bloody, but when he felt the weight of it in his hand, he knew it was all he needed. He wasn’t a very good shot with a gun, but he never missed with the axe in his hands. The head was strong and sharp, and the blade never seemed to dull despite the numerous skulls it had crushed. As he took it, he relished the feel of it, enjoying the coarseness of the helve. He ran his fingers across the smooth oak from which it had been fashioned, and he felt stronger immediately. He could do this. They could do this together, and beat them back. The zombies stood no chance.
“Runner!” shouted Terry.
A gunshot rang out, and Terry took the first one down before it reached them.
“Follow me,” shouted Javier. He led them back to the clubhouse, and positioned himself beside a water barrel. He told Jonas and Terry to line up beside him underneath the back porch where they had shelter from the rain. Javier began shooting with Terry, trying to take down the front of the pack. Runners came splintering away from the group, but they were hard to pick off as they ran in a zigzag, bumbling their way through the horde.
Through the rain and the bullets Javier picked his targets carefully. He didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire, and ducked under a tall elm, ready to take down any runners that evaded the gunfire.
“There’re a lot of zombies coming through that gap in the fence,” shouted Terry over the gunfire. “Mostly stumblers, but we can’t let them keep coming.” Terry continued firing at the faster ones. As Terry shot at the dead, he could tell that they were only just managing to stay on top of them. All the time, he could see more and more zombies piling in where the fence was down. Gabe was a good shot, but the numbers were not in their favor.
“Shit!” Jonas yelled as the first of the stumblers reached him. A woman appeared almost from nowhere. The rain was blinding, and as if emerging from a waterfall, the woman reached out for him.
Jonas gritted his teeth and sunk his axe into the woman’s neck. He sidestepped to the left, and let the woman fall to the ground where he hit her again, smashing in her skull. Another figure emerged from the rain, a dead body ambling toward him menacingly. Whether it was male or female he couldn’t tell, and he didn’t wait to find out. He swung the axe sharply across the figure’s face, and the skull split apart instantly as the axe wrenched the person’s head from the body. The exposed bone was shiny and white, and Jonas watched as the zombie staggered forward before dropping to its knees. Rainwater pooled at Jonas’s feet, and it turned red as the zombie’s innards began spewing out onto the ground. Once he was sure it was dead, he had no time to react as another zombie reached him. It was a runner, and it was fast.
Jonas saw the zombie almost too late. There was a crack of thunder, a flash of lightening, and then he saw it coming from the corner of his eye. A young boy, probably no more than eleven or twelve, still fully clothed, and still with all his limbs, ran to Jonas emitting a horrifying groaning sound. The boy ran with his arms outstretched, as if desperate for a hug. Jonas saw the angry red face of a bird on the boy’s shirt and recognized the boy wore a Cardinals shirt, the same sort of one that he had worn at that age. Amazingly the boy still wore a Cardinals cap, too, and for a second Jonas wondered if he was mistaken. Perhaps the boy just needed help and was running away from the dead instead of with them. In his heart, Jonas knew there was no way the boy could still be alive, and when he got closer, Jonas could see the dead boy’s face. His jaw had been gnawed away to the bone, exposing two rows of teeth. Maggots filled his cheeks, and the skin was a dark gray color. The boy’s eyes were a deep brown, ringed by tiny freckles, and almost looked alive. Reluctantly, Jonas swung his axe once more, letting the blade slice through the boy’s head. The Cardinals cap flew through the air, landing at Jonas’s feet. The zombie fell to the ground, and Jonas turned to face the house. The poor kid didn’t deserve that. He had been somebody’s child, and now he was just another zombie, another dead body on the ground with a lost soul and a mangled face. Jonas sighed. How many more was he going to have to kill? Where were the others? Amidst the noise of the storm, he had lost track of how many shots Gabe and Terry had taken. He could see bodies scattered throughout the drive where the runners had fallen, but they were still coming.
“Terry? Gabe? Where are they? We can’t keep this up much longer.” Jonas watched as Terry took down another two runners, and then reloaded his gun. He watched Gabe do the same, and then he saw Erik run from the house.
“Over here!”
Erik ran up to Jonas, and he handed him his Glock. Erik fired off two shots without hesitating, and he took down a couple of stumblers. “Everyone else is inside. Quinn’s going to see if she can get one of the trucks over to the fence, and block off the hole.”
Jonas heard the rumble of an engine behind him and saw Quinn moving one of the trucks across the garden. She was peering through the windows trying to see clearly, and he hoped she could do it. If they could somehow find a way to block the gap in the fence, they might just be able to save the course.
“Dakota…is she?”
Erik put a hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “She’s fine. She’s with the others waiting in the lobby. If things go sour, they’re ready to go.”
Jonas nodded. “We should try to clear a path for Quinn. It’s hard enough driving in this weather, but any zombies in her way are only going to slow her down. If we don’t get that hole patched up, we’re going to lose this place.”
Erik said something in agreement, although quite what he said Jonas didn’t know. Erik’s voice was lost in the cacophony of the storm. Jonas darted over to Terry just as Erik began shooting.
“Gabe, Terry - concentrate your fire on the zombies that are headed for the house. I’m going to take Erik and clear a way for Quinn.” Jonas didn’t wait for a reply but headed straight back to Erik.
“Come on,” said Jonas as they left the shelter of the tree and made for the slow-moving truck.
Jonas stayed in front of Erik and used his axe to take down any zombies that got close enough while Erik shot at any who looked like they were about to get in front of the truck. Jonas could see Quinn struggling to keep the truck moving, and as it veered over the fairway, it began to lose traction. The truck was heavy, loaded with supplies, and it gradually began to move slower. Jonas watched as two zombies fell under it, and their bodies helped the rear wheels gain some grip. It lurched forward, and Erik dropped more right in front of Quinn. The dark sky above opened up, and lightning coursed through the clouds again, illuminating the golf course fully. Jonas saw Quinn heading for the TV tower, but he also saw what lay beyond. Further down the fairway, to the south, another stretch of fence had gone down. It might have been the storm, the winds, or even the sheer weight of the dead pressed against it, but whatever had caused it to collapse was irrelevant. The golf course was covered in zombies. Hundreds of them were scattered over it, all walking or running to the sound of the gunfire. Jonas thought there could be a hundred or more. Their numbers were insurmountable, and he knew they had to go. They could fight them back, try and repel them, but eventually they
would run out of ammo, and then they would be reduced to fighting by hand. It was too dangerous to stand and fight. The golf course was lost. They had been so close, and now it was gone.
“Erik, we have to go,” shouted Jonas as he killed a zombie, whirling his axe around him like a baton. As the dead body fell at his feet, Erik stopped firing and looked at him.
“No way; we can’t lose this place, not now.” Erik resumed firing, picking off the zombies nearest to Quinn. He managed to get off headshots nearly every time, and Jonas was impressed. But Erik was wasting his time and bullets.
“Erik,” said Jonas pulling on his friend’s arm, “you have to stop. You know what I’m saying. It’s too late.”
Erik looked at Jonas and the swarming dead around him. His eyes sank to the ground. “But we can’t lose this, we can’t. It isn’t fair. My kids are shattered. Pippa was finally beginning to think we had a future again. I was. I…”
“I know,” said Jonas, “but we have no choice.”
Erik looked up. The dead were coming at them from all angles. The wind was tearing up branches and leaves, whirling them around and sending them tearing through the air like darts. The rain hadn’t eased up either, and another boom of thunder rolled across the Kentucky plains.
“Fuck,” said Erik plainly. “Just…fuck.”
Jonas began waving at Quinn to stop, but she had already stopped. The truck had become stuck by a sandpit, and the wheels were spinning uselessly, kicking up sand and water.
“You go back,” shouted Jonas. He had to make sure Erik heard the plan, as the storm was not abating. The zombies were closing in on them, and the sounds of the moaning dead were increasing too. “Get Gabe and Terry, and tell them that we’re evacuating. Gabe said there were two vehicles prepped and ready. A white van and an SUV, I think. Get everyone inside them and ready to go. I assume Gabe will take one, so let him take the van. I want you behind the wheel of the SUV. Come and get me as soon as you can.”
“What the hell, Hamsikker? We’re not going without you. If you’re off on one of your suicide missions again…”
