The Living and the Dead

by R. J. Spears

  “Is it still electrified?” Russell asked.

  “Fuck-a-doodle do,” Maggie said and she reached down to the vest and pressed a button. “Not any fucking more.”

  As Russell helped her slip off the vest, they heard a stirring behind them in the back of the room. In unison, with the exception of Maggie, they all wheeled around with their guns ready. Maggie slowly turned her head in that direction in a slow motion reaction.

  From beneath a couple bodies, a hand struggled to push its way through an arm and a leg. A telltale moaning-growl accompanied the motions and they all trained their weapons on the activity.

  “What the hell?” Maggie said, her voice rough and dry.

  It took nearly half a minute, but an arm squeezed its way through the tangle of bodies and a head popped free.

  One of the soldiers killed by the zombies had left the land of the living and joined the ranks of the undead. There was a large bite mark on its neck with blood caking its shoulders and chest. It strained and pushed, trying to break free of the bodies, all the while focusing on the four humans just a few feet away. It took another half minute and its entire upper torso was exposed from the pile. The pace was the best it could do as it flailed its arms in their direction, looking entirely pathetic, like a child reaching for their favorite toy only to find it out of reach.

  Jones trained his aim on the zombie’s head and said, “I’ve got this.”

  “No, wait a minute,” Maggie said.

  Jones paused and looked her way as if to say, “What?”

  “I have an idea,” she said, taking a step toward the zombie.

  “And?” Jones said.

  “She’s good with these ideas,” Russell said.

  “Do we have any rope or anything?” Maggie asked.

  Corporal Lodwick strutted across the dining hall as his soldiers herded the remaining residents of the Manor into the room. His gait seemed manic, stiff yet loose, his legs kicking out in front of his body. All the while, he gnawed nervously at his fingernails, his eyes darting to the people and then around at all the openings to the dining room. He had stationed his remaining men at most of them. There were too many of them to have his men cover them in any effective manner and that made him nervous.

  The surprise rebellion had taken its toll. His crew had been cut in half overnight. Maybe more. He knew he had lost some during the small firefights inside and outside the building. A few had gone AWOL. He despised those men almost as much as he hated the people behind the rebellion. They were chicken shit deserters who deserved to be shot, no better than Sergeant Jones, who had turned his back on his own men.

  Lodwick barked out commands to his soldiers to put the residents on the outer ring of tables, while he and two soldiers stayed in the center of the room. If the attackers decided to rush the room, they’d first have to make it through his soldiers. Then they’d have to risk shooting the innocent residents to get to him. He thought it was an effective strategy.

  Lodwick pondered the events that had transpired that night. He had been on the cusp of making an example of their leader, Jo. She would pay for standing up to him, but that was small potatoes now. She and her conspirators had fomented an uprising. Reports had come in from his soldiers across the complex. Attackers were coming from the outside and only a couple of the men he had sent out to stop them had returned. The most incredible report came from the sleeping quarters on the second floor. A woman controlling a small herd of zombies took out the men who were off-duty and sleeping. That was beyond belief.

  The Manor people had told the story of some sort of crazy ass, mad genius who had devised a way to control the zombies through electronic implants into their brains, but it seemed preposterous. But now he believed as did the rest of his men. The Manor people said they had killed the man, though.

  If that was the case, then who the hell was controlling the zombies? Who was this woman?

  Whoever it was, it was a real shit storm and he knew it, but he also knew that he had to get it under control. He needed to regain the upper hand and squash this half-assed rebellion. Once he did, the people behind it would pay. Pay dearly.

  Most of the residents his soldiers had rounded up were elderly, but there were a couple women with children and two men. One of the men hobbled about on crutches from a previous injury. The other was healthy and intact. Lodwick guessed that most of the able bodied people had taken up in the rebellion. He stared at the one lone healthy man and wondered why he hadn’t joined his colleagues in their fight?

  What was his name? Lodwick thought as he eyed the man. Getz? Hubbard?

  He got tired of guessing and motioned one of his soldiers over.

  “Ferguson, who is that guy?” Lodwick asked.

  “Hell if I know,” Ferguson said, his eyes blinking furiously. “Freddie, I think.”

  “Stop being so damn jumpy, Ferguson,” Lodwick said.

  “Yes, sir,” Ferguson said, but he bounced on the balls of his feet, ready for anything, trying to look in every direction at once.

  “Freddie,” Lodwick said, raising his voice. “Come over here.” He motioned with his arms, an invitation for the man to leave the scrum of residents.

  The man looked hesitant, glancing back at a woman that Lodwick recognized. Her name was Ellen. Some communication transferred between Freddie and Ellen. That just annoyed the shit out of Lodwick.

  “Get the fuck over here. Now!” He accentuated his command by pointing his pistol at Freddie’s chest.

  Freddie took a step forward but then balanced backward, unsure of whether he should stay or go. Ellen grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back into the crowd, but Freddie didn’t move and was instead caught in indecision.

  “Do you want me to just order my men to start shooting into the crowd, or do you want to get the hell over here?” Lodwick shouted, spittle flying from his lips. It was so forceful that Ferguson took a step away from him.

  Freddie got his feet in motion and slowly walked the fifteen feet over to where Lodwick stood in the center of the room. For him, it seemed like the walk to the electric chair.

  “Now, was that so hard?” Lodwick said, letting a broad smile come to his face.

  It was almost imperceptible, but Freddie seemed to relax a little, waiting for Lodwick’s next move. It would probably be a question, he guessed.

  Instead, Lodwick shot Freddie in the leg. The move was so fast and so shocking that no one even had time to gasp. Ferguson jumped where he stood and nearly lost his balance.

  Freddie fell to the floor, yelled in pain twice, but gritted it back as his hands went to the wound in his thigh. The bullet had missed the bone but had done a great deal of damage to the muscle. Blood oozed between his fingers as he clutched at the wound.

  “Now, people, here’s how it’s going to go,” Lodwick shouted. “I’m going to ask questions and you’re going to give me answers. If I don’t get answers, the next shot is in his head. Alright?” He let his gaze sweep around the room to catch everyone’s attention. “Who is attacking my men? I’m pretty sure it’s your people, but they’ve had help from the inside.”

  He started to say something else when a voice yelled from one of the corridors outside the room.

  “Help!” the voice said.

  The soldiers on the perimeter of the room all wheeled and aimed their rifles in the direction of the corridor where the voice had come from. Lodwick stopped his delivery, too. Freddie’s stifled gasps were the only noise in the room as he sucked in breaths against the pain.

  The voice came again and Lodwick could tell it was a young girl.

  “Help me, I’m scared.” The voice was coming from a darkened hallway. While the lights were on all over the first floor, there was damage to the electrical systems in the earlier attack on the compound, and this corridor was mostly dark.

  “Who the hell is that?” Lodwick asked. He turned to Ferguson and asked, “I thought you had rounded up all the people still in the building?”

  Fe
rguson shrugged. That didn’t help Lodwick’s mood.

  “Who’s out there?” Lodwick shouted.

  “It’s me,” the voice replied out of the darkness. The words came out in broken tearful gasps. “My name is Madison. I was the girl who came in from the outside earlier.”

  Lodwick blew out a long, exasperated exhalation. “Why are you out there on your own?”

  “I got scared when all the shooting happened,” Madison said, her voice came from closer down the corridor this time. “I went and hid.” Madison worked to make her voice sound younger than she was. Younger and more frightened.

  There were a lot of places to hide in the building, Lodwick told himself. He had half a mind to tell his men to just shoot her, but Kilgore had taken a liking to the little girl. When, or if, Kilgore returned, he wouldn’t be happy if he learned that Lodwick had ordered that she be shot. Besides, she was another hostage he could use against his attackers. Kids were always better bargaining chips in a negotiation.

  “Well, get the hell in here,” Lodwick shouted.

  All eyes went to the corridor. Out of the darkness, Madison appeared shuffling along slowly, her head down. She wore an overlarge coat that hung over her hands.

  “Hurry up!” Lodwick shouted.

  Madison sped up and Ellen broke from the crowd to greet her. As soon as they met, Ellen wrapped her arms around Madison, swooping her into a semi-embrace. They moved back into the crowd.

  Lodwick shook his head, frustrated at the interruption.

  “Now, where were we?” he asked. “Yeah, I want some fucking answers.”

  Del, Cynthia, Mrs. Hatcher, and Henry slipped slowly along one of the corridors leading toward the front of the building. Their destination was the dining hall where Lodwick held their people.

  “What are we going to do when we get there?” Mrs. Hatcher asked.

  “We’ll do what we have to,” Del said.

  “But he has our people,” Cynthia said. “He has all the cards.”

  Henry put up a hand for them to stop. “I know he has all the power, but what choice do we have? We can run, but that leaves our people inside. We can surrender, but he’ll just have us shot. Then he’ll take out our rebellion out on whoever’s left.”

  “But that’s my sister,” Cynthia said.

  “And my mom,” Henry said.

  “And my girlfriend and kid,” Del said. “It’s all in. We knew as soon as we started this that it was a big risk, but we could all see that we’d probably get here anyway. Kilgore was losing it. Lodwick’s a little Hitler. We were screwed blued and tattooed.” He wiped a hand across his sweaty face, then said, “I can’t back down. There’s no other way.”

  They all looked inward for a few brief seconds and then glanced into each other’s faces. Their expression said it all. Why they weren’t happy about it, they were resigned to the next and inevitable course of action. Well, Mrs. Hatcher just looked scared shitless.

  Del turned around and started down the hallway again, walking slowly, but with purpose. The group made it around a corner when they heard echoing footsteps coming their way and Del put up a hand for them to stop. Each of them went for their gun and got ready.

  Henry looked to Del with an expression that asked, “Where?”

  Del responded by pointing at a door ten feet down this new hallway and then his finger pointed up.

  The footsteps were coming from the second floor. Listening as hard as they could, they could tell it was more than one person. It sounded like several.

  Henry pulled Del close and whispered in his ear, “Do you think Lodwick sent out a clean-up team?”

  Del shrugged, then said in a soft voice, “It could be the guards from the third-floor surveillance rooms. I don’t know, but we need to be ready. Move across the hall and train your aim on the door.”

  Henry did as he was told as he and Cynthia moved to the other side of the hall and took aim on the door. Del went to went knee and kept his aim locked on the door while Mrs. Hatcher stood back, so nervous she could barely hold onto her pistol.

  They waited as the seconds ticked by,. The footsteps got louder and after about ten more seconds, the door pushed open. Even though they couldn’t do anything more to increase their aim, they all focused their complete attention on the doorway, blocking out anything else.

  The door remained open for several seconds, but nothing appeared. Henry thought he heard someone let out a light curse. “Shit the bed,” a voice said. “Get the fuck out the door, you dead asshole.” Something about the voice was familiar, but he couldn’t really tell from the volume and the echo. Then Henry heard a sound halfway between a snarl and a groan.

  A moment later a body appeared in the doorway. They had all been so tense, that it was a miracle that none of them fired immediately. The body in the doorway was so shockingly unexpected that no one could act.

  A zombie stumbled into the hallway, nearly falling over. Its arms were wrapped tightly around its side with an orange extension cord. Its momentum carried it across the hall where caromed off the wall and fell to the floor, snarling and moaning all the while.

  Henry exchanged a puzzled glance with Del, but no definitive communication was exchanged, so they remained in a holding pattern.

  A shadow moved inside the door and a moment later Russell appeared, his arm wrapped around Maggie, who looked worse for the wear. It seemed as if she could barely stand up, her legs wobbled back and forth. They both came out the door facing down the hallway away from Henry and the rest of his group.

  If this surprise wasn’t enough, then Sergeant Jones came through the door. Unlike Russell and Maggie, he did see four people with guns trained in them.

  “Heads up,” Jones yelled, backing into the stairwell, going to one knee, and training his weapon on them.

  Russell whipped around and Maggie nearly fell over from the motion.

  “Henry!” Russell said, letting go of Maggie who fell back into the wall for balance.

  “Russell,” Henry said, not knowing what else to say.

  Jones maintained his aim on the group, but Jo shoved her way past the big soldier and rushed to Henry, and gave him a hug. Watching the reunion, Jones relaxed, as did everyone else, and stood up, lowering his rifle.

  “What are you doing here?” Jo asked.

  “We went out and got weapons,” Henry said. “We had a shootout and headed back inside to get our people from Lodwick.”

  “Wait, what are you talking about?” Jo asked with some alarm in her tone.

  “Mr. Schultz brought weapons in from the old farmhouse and stashed them in the woods. We got them and fought our way back in. On the way, we took a walkie-talkie from one of the dead soldiers,” Henry said, holding it up. “Lodwick had his men collect all the remaining people and had them brought to the dining room. He has my mom.”

  Any momentary joy left Jo’s face and she looked at Russell who shared the same feelings. Jo started to say something, but the zombie let out a loud snarl as it struggled to get to its feet and failing.

  Mrs. Hatcher stepped forward, her hand half raised as if poised to ask a question in school and asked, “Why do you have that zombie tied up like that?”

  Maggie found the strength to push herself off the wall, shot out a foot against the zombie’s back, and slammed it to the ground. Its chin banged off the hard floor and she said, “I thought I told you to shut the fuck up.”

  Chapter 39

  Reunited

  “Joel?” Kara said again, her voice scratchy and raw. “Is that you?”

  I knew this moment shouldn’t have been about me, but with the way I felt about her and our connection -- it was like it had happened to me. I knew it hadn’t, but the way she looked -- the abrasions, the cut on her head, her puffy eyes and mouth. I felt each punch in those few seconds as I stood at the end of the bed. The feeling overwhelmed my senses as I wavered back-and-forth and my knees felt weak. My vision started to tunnel down with darkness encroaching at the edges and I fel
t like I might collapse at any second.

  “Joel, are you alright?”

  That’s what brought me out of it. That she would ask about me when she had just been brutalized. After being...I couldn’t bring myself to think about it. It was selfish that I tried to internalize any of what had happened to her. What she had gone through, she had gone through on her own and she had done it to protect Naveen. My job was to comfort and protect her and then get her back on her feet.

  I jerked into action and moved around the side of the bed, sitting down beside her. I pushed out one of my hands to touch her, but was afraid anything I did would make it worse. Instead, I said, “I’m here. I’m here. We’re getting you out of here.”

  She turned her head in my direction and I could see one eye hooding over from swelling. The other was puffy with the skin below it darkening. I reached out a hand and caressed the side of her head and she leaned into my touch, letting out a half moan.

  “Oh, Joel,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. There was some withheld truth behind those tears that neither of us wanted to talk about.

  My heart broke completely at that moment, shattering into a million pieces. I looked for words to say, but none came. I wanted to hold her and tell her that everything would be alright, but there was nothing I could do that would make it better. I had failed again in protecting what I held most dear.

  Sometimes you do the best you can, but that’s not good enough.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “It’s okay,” she said, and she pulled me close. It wasn’t an embrace, but it was the best we could do at the time.

  “Oh Joel,” she said and choked back a sob.

  I wanted to hug her more tightly, but was afraid I would hurt her. I did what I could to comfort her, but knew what I did wouldn’t be enough.

  “Where are the others?” she asked, breaking out of our pseudo-hug.

  “They are getting away,” I said. “It’s chaos out there. Kilgore or whoever hit the compound with a helicopter attack. We barely got out of that room.” I paused for a moment and listened to the exchange of small weapons fire. It came in sporadic waves. Someone would fire and then a few seconds later, there would be answering fire, like a violent conversation. What I could tell was it was only a handful of people. Kilgore’s attack must have wiped out most of Marlow’s men.