by Todd Sprague
John whispered to Sara as they pushed the rest of the way forward. “Crap, what’s her name again?”
“That’s Beth Rothchilde, Michelle’s mom.”
“Oh yeah, from the church basement. Only she didn’t look so crazy then.”
Sara ran over to her brother and stood between him and the wild eyed woman. John stepped in between them and gently held the older woman back.
“Easy, Mrs. Rothchilde. Just take it easy. What’s going on?”
Jose jumped forward. “She’s crazy, John! Watch it!” Michelle slapped him in the back of the head.
“Shut up, that’s my mom!”
“Alright, everybody, just calm down!” John yelled.
Sudden silence rang out, even from the two dogs. Everyone looked at John. Sara walked back to him. “Your gun,” she whispered. It was only then he realized he still had his P90 up and ready for action. He lowered it quickly.
“Now, what’s going on here?” he asked.
“I caught that hoodlum with my daughter!” Beth Rothchilde yelled as she pointed at Jose. Angry tears welled up in her eyes. “My baby!”
John looked at Jose and raised his eyebrows. Sara spun on him and grabbed his arm. “Come on, Jose. We talked about this.”
“It wasn’t my idea!”
Michelle looked at Jose. “Oh really? So you didn’t want to do it with me?” Sara winced at Michelle’s lack of eloquence.
Jose looked like a doe caught in headlights as he stammered. “No, I mean yes, but not...I mean, of course...wait, I mean...”
“Mrs. Rothchilde, could you just tell me what happened, please?” John asked. He shook his head in exasperation and rubbed his temple with his left hand.
“I was worried all night when Michelle didn’t come home, but I figured she was with him. Then, this morning, I came out and saw her hat in the snow outside of that tent. I went in there, and there they were. Together. In... in coitus!” She spat the last word out as if it were poison.
Sara stifled a giggle, before putting her angry big-sister expression back on.
“What? We weren’t sick, we were having sex!” Jose yelled back.
Sara poked Jose in his bare chest. “God, you really have to start coming to school. That’s what coitus means, genius.”
Jose’s face reddened as his breath puffed out in front of him in the cold morning air. “Oh.”
“I demand justice! He touched my little girl!” Beth hollered. She stomped her feet angrily in the packed snow.
“Hold on, Mrs. Rothchilde. Just wait a minute.” John pulled Michelle a little ways away from the group and lowered his voice. “Michelle, please tell me the truth. Were you there willingly? Did Jose force or coerce you to do anything you didn’t want to do?”
Michelle looked straight into John’s eyes as she replied. “Hell no. I wouldn’t have been there if I wasn’t there willingly. What kind of stupid girl would that make me?”
John asked “Are you sure? No one can hear you, you can tell me the truth.”
Michelle raised her voice so everyone could here. “If I didn’t want to be there with him, I would have shot him like Marta did Gino.” She pulled a small .38 pistol out from under her blanket and waved it at Jose, who flung himself to the ground as the pistol wavered in his direction. A fresh coating of snow covered his bare torso as he lay on the ground. John reached forward and carefully took the little chrome pistol from the girl.
“I’ll just take that for now, okay?”
Michelle nodded. “I’m not going to blame anyone. We’re adults, so back off.”
“You’re not adults yet!” Beth yelled.
“He’s killed more Zeds than you’ve seen, Mom. He’s an adult, and so am I. We’re old enough to fight and die against the undead, we can have sex if we want to. Besides, Eddie said the children..”
“Michelle, you’re not supposed to talk about that!” Jose whispered loudly as he sprang back up off the ground.
Michelle looked down and frowned. “Oh gosh, I forgot. Sorry.”
Sara stepped toward Michelle. “What children? Michelle, what about the children?”
She looked at Sara. “I...I can’t say. I’m sorry.”
“If it’s about the children you better start saying,” Sara said angrily, stepping toward Michelle.
“Okay, okay. Look, everyone needs to just cool down for awhile, alright? Mrs. Rothchilde, why don’t you take Michelle to your quarters for now. Get some hot food into her, and Jose’s going to go apologize to his mother for making her worry all night. Then, tonight we’d love to have you over for dinner so we can all discuss this together.”
Beth snarled her acceptance and took Michelle away, leaving Sara, Jose, John, and about thirty other people staring as snow melted on Jose’s upper body and bare feet.
Sara looked at Jose, a fierce glow in her eyes. “Get some clothes on. We’re going to talk later, Jose.”
Jose started to run off toward his quarters. “Probably not!”
Sara yelled after him. “Probably yes, punk!”
* * *
John sat with Patrick, Emmet, Morgan, Marta, Sara, Roger, Kurt, his daughter Jill, and Douglas in a corner table of the cookhouse. A pot of lukewarm coffee sat in the middle of the table. Each person had an old chipped mug in front of them. John sipped from his before he spoke. “Well, we can’t just leave them there. We need to make sure.”
“Why? They’re dead, just leave them to rot. We don’t need to risk anyone if they’re already dead.” Douglas said, as he frowned into his coffee.
“Yeah, because dead things never become alive again,” Marta quipped.
“Because, Doug, we don’t know if they’re already dead, that’s the problem. We don’t know much about them at all. Besides, any Zeds we get rid of now won’t be back to haunt us in the spring.” Roger said, eying Douglas. “And maybe we can figure out why they seem to gather in packs.”
“I just don’t see the point. We could lose assets if it’s some kind of trap or something.”
“Assets? Doug...Jesus Christ. They’re people.” Morgan said, shaking his head.
“No, I meant assets like our vehicles, weapons, ammo. Or worse, we could lead a whole pack of them back here.”
“Holy shit, you’re cold, cousin.” Morgan said.
“Doug, we have to do this. We have to just go and finish them off. We’ll take some cans of gas and burn the bodies. That’s all. And besides, this gives us a chance to test out the armor.”
Sara frowned. John reached over and squeezed her hand. “I know. But if anything happens out there, we’ll take care of each other, and I’ll be safest of all, in the suit. If it works right, we’ll all be safer for it.”
“I know. We’ll talk about it later.” Sara said, disapproval plain in her expression.
John paused and looked around at the assembled group. “Does anyone have any thoughts?”
Kurt nodded. “I agree with you, John. We have to go do this. I don’t think that plastic suit of yours is going to do much, but we need to make sure those maggot bags are really dead. Permanently dead, I mean.”
The group discussed the idea for a while before moving on to the logistics of the mission. John noticed Sara stayed unusually quiet throughout the rest of the meeting, but said nothing more to her until later.
* * *
“Babe, I know how you feel. I do. We’ve talked about this before, but Jose made the suit to fit me perfectly,” John said as he walked with Sara back through the snow to their cabin. The cold air sucked the breath from their lungs in long puffs.
“I know. With the help of his dead friend. So it’s guaranteed to work. Ghost best friend approved!” Sara said, almost succeeding in keeping the sarcasm out of her tone.
“I don’t believe that any more than you do, but the results seem to be sound. We have to do this, and I’m the only one that can take the suit out.” John paused for a moment before continuing. “Unless you think Jose should take his out instead.” He looke
d almost guilty at having driven that point home.
Sara turned on him. “Oh, don’t you dare! That’s not fair.”
John pulled her in and hugged her. She remained stiff for a moment before breaking down and returning his hug. She sobbed quietly into his shoulder while he held her. Several minutes later, she sniffed a little and pulled away from him.
“Just come home. I’m not doing this alone. Promise me.”
John looked into her eyes. “I promise.”
* * *
The selected group consisted of Morgan and Roger, as well as Kurt, Jill, Marta, and Emmet. A full squad of six, one of the escort teams for the scavengers, also joined them. They loaded up two of the Humvees and a big brown Dodge pickup truck with a snow plow attached to the front they’d added to their growing motor pool. All were heavily armed and each person carried a backpack filled with emergency supplies in case the excursion took longer than planned. Each wore fatigues taken from the National Guard bases with the patches ripped off out of respect for those who’d served, except for John, who wore the heavy flat black plastic and leather armor Jose had designed and built for him. It fit so well that it barely made a sound, though it made him look like a cross between a gorilla and a beetle. Leather straps and buckles secured each piece of thick, hard plastic to a tough undersuit of cured leather.
As John stood next to the pickup truck trying to decide whether to jump up into the back or try to squeeze his armor-clad bulk into the cab, Jose ran up to him.
“Hey John!” He yelled as he ran up. John turned and waved to Jose.
“Hey Jose. Look, I know you want to come but I’m just not going to put Sara through that...”
Jose interrupted him. “No, no. I don’t want to go. I mean, I do, but that’s not why I’m here.”
John raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I just wanted to say good luck, and to give you this.” Jose handed John a little bundle about the size of a baseball, wrapped in tan cloth.
John looked at the bundle. “What is it?” He began to unwrap it.
Jose covered the bundle with his own hand. “No, don’t open it yet. You have to save it.”
“For what?”
“For when you need it, duh.”
John looked skeptical. “And when will that be?”
“You’ll know. Hey John, you just gotta trust, you feel me?” Jose gave John a cockeyed grin.
“Uh, sure, Jose. Whatever you say.” Jose turned and started to walk away. John yelled after him. “Thanks, Jose. I’ll see you when I get back.”
Jose waved over his shoulder. “Or sooner.” he said, and walked away.
John scratched his head one more time, tucked the little bundle into one of the many pockets Jose had thoughtfully provided him, attached to the armor at various points, and climbed up into the back of the truck. He checked his P90, the little backpack he’d brought holding extra ammo and MREs, and his helmet, before settling down into the truck bed. He thumbed his radio. “Ready. Let’s roll.”
The three vehicles pulled out of the driveway. John waved as he saw Sara standing on top of a little knoll in the compound. The last thing he saw as they pulled away was his wife returning his wave with both arms.
* * *
The trip to the old organ factory took less than forty-five minutes even through the snow. They pulled in to the little parking lot next to the immense brick and wood building and immediately saw the six foot tall piles of snow scattered all around the area. They were most heavily concentrated near the loading dock and the small door next to it. The pulled the vehicles as close to a circle as they could and began unloading. Emmet picked three folks from the escort squad to stay with the vehicles. One manned a .50 caliber machine gun on top of a Humvee; the other two climbed on top of the other vehicles and took up support positions.
John and Emmet walked over to the closest pile of snow, John carrying his helmet under one arm, and his P90 slung over his other. Emmet carried a pistol on his right hip and his sawed off shotgun and wore a bandoleer across one shoulder filled with orange shot shells. He pushed back the old hunter’s cap with the furry ear flaps and scratched his forehead with the barrel of his gun.
“Now that just doesn’t make sense.” he said as he brushed snow off the pile of Zed bodies. His efforts uncovered a stack of almost twenty bodies, all laying in the same direction, in a pyramid shape. They all had their eyes closed. The ones that had eyelids, at least.
“Do you notice anything odd about them?” John asked. “I mean, aside from the fact that they’re friggin’ undead bastards.”
Emmet chuckled and bent down to look closer. “Looks like the one on top is...well... less fresh than the ones underneath. Like, the newer ones got stacked first, then the older ones got put on top.”
John nodded. “That one on top looks like he’s been dead for a long time. Well, undead. You know what I mean.” He paused for a moment. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
John shook his head. “Never mind. I thought I heard something.”
Other members of the group had uncovered the other piles, thirty in all. They pulled small gas cans from the vehicles and poured the liquid over each pile and lit them in turn. As the heaps began to thaw and then burn, the smell of burnt meat assailed their nostrils. Moments after the last one was lit, an angry, pain-filled roar reverberated from within the organ factory. The sound was so loud and so low that John felt it in his chest.
His team turned as one, weapons trained on the factory door. They stood there, waiting, as the echoes of the awful sound finally died away. Smoke from the burning piles of bodies blew across the parking lot, blocking out any view of the building.
“Hold tight, everyone. Stay cool,” John said, his voice carrying through the cold winter day as if he’d shouted. He kept his P90 trained on where he knew the door to be, despite the smoke. A gust of wind blew the smoke in the other direction, giving a view of the loading dock and side door. Both were still closed. John heard a collective sigh of relief behind him.
John pumped his fist in the air once, and pointed to the side entrance. Emmet and Kurt ran to the door first, though Kurt’s limp slowed him a little. They positioned themselves on either side of the door, weapons trained at the entrance. John walked up, lifted his heavily booted right foot, and kicked the door in. The cheap, cold wood snapped in the middle as the door flew off its hinges. Kurt lit a roadside flare and tossed it into the cavernous factory. The little stick flashed to life and a circle of light appeared around it. The illuminated circle ended abruptly at the first pyramid of stacked Zeds. Dim light persisted beyond those piles, to show pyramid shaped shadows that went on and on into the blackness of the interior.
“Holy shit!” Kurt exclaimed as he saw the stacks upon stacks of Zeds.
“Easy, take it easy,” Emmet said as he motioned for the rest of the group, minus the three in the vehicles, to come forward slowly. He pulled a 5 cell Maglite from his belt and shined it into the room. The brighter light from his flashlight shone on the frozen bodies of Zeds, stacked exactly like the ones outside, under the snow.
“That’s why they’re outside. They filled up the inside first. Ran out of room in there,” Emmet muttered, almost to himself.
“Alright, Emmet, you and Morgan are with me,” John ordered. “Kurt, the rest of you, hold this door for us. We’re going to go check it out, and then we’re going to come back here and burn the building down on these motherfuckers. Roger, see if you can get more fuel from the station across the street. We’re going to need it for the bonfire.”
John moved into the room first. He thumbed on the little tactical light on the top of his P90. The small but powerful light cut through the darkness with ease, showing him details of every dead face or body he passed. Why are their eyes closed? he wondered to himself.
Emmet came close behind John, with Morgan bringing up the rear, a Glock in each hand and a miner’s light shining on his head. The small group mov
ed through the factory, staying as close to the center of the building as they could. The piles had been stacked in such a way that two people could walk side by side between them, but no more.
“I bet this place stinks like hell come spring.” Morgan whispered. Emmet chuckled quietly.
Shadows jumped and wavered behind every stack of corpses as their lights played over them. John caught himself forgetting to breathe inside the closed helmet more than once, as he focused too intently each time he thought he saw something moving only to find it was simply a shadow. The only sound inside the huge factory came from the three sets of footsteps as the men moved deeper and deeper into the building.
Close to what had to be the center of the factory, they found a set of chipped yellow painted stairs that descended into pitch blackness. Near the stairs, the piles of Zeds had been set further back, creating a small clearing amidst the thousands of bodies.
John shined his flashlight down into the depths. A rough concrete floor lay at the bottom of the stairs, surrounded by darkness.
“Uh uh. No way, man.” Morgan whispered.
John looked back at his young cousin and nodded. “Go back. Tell Kurt and your father to start dumping gas all over the building. We’ll be out in a minute. I just want to check down here real quick. In fact, if we’re not out in ten, light the damn fire.”
Morgan looked as if he were going to argue but decided against it. He nodded, then turned and ran as fast as he could, weaving in and out of the packed Zeds, and out of sight. Moments later, John’s radio crackled. “I’m out.” John thumbed it twice, signaling his acknowledgement.
Emmet looked at John. “Age before beauty.”
John shrugged and stepped on to the stairs. “That’s okay. You’ll probably creak more than the stairs will, old man.”
Emmet chuckled and stepped down after John. John reached the basement floor and panned his light around. More Zeds, these piled in smaller piles of only five or six, lay scattered everywhere, though they seemed to be closer together towards one end of the room. John cocked his head.
