The cashier, pharmacy tech, and gray haired lady all looked at him, wide eyed. “Glad I got some of that lithium,” he muttered and walked out. Dallas and the others followed.
Chapter Eight
The world is mourning the death of Tatum Jones. The 16-year-old singer was found dead in her dressing room after playing a show Friday night. Details of her death have not been released to the public, but she was reportedly suffering from the mysterious, water borne virus spreading over the state of Louisiana.
“It’s just so shocking,” says Louisiana resident JoAnn Cade, who attended church with the singer. “I didn’t really listen to her music, but she was always such a nice girl. It’s such a shame that her life was cut so short.”
Those who knew her described Jones as “a sweetheart” or “the nicest girl ever.” Former teacher Beverly Smith says “Tatum will be sorely missed, but it is such a comfort to know that she’s joined her eternal Savior in Heaven.”
Dallas wasn’t sure what to think as she flipped through yet another article about Tatum. The website that had published it was the same one that published the incriminating photo of her clubbing the previous week. They had changed their tune about her awfully fast. Death had a way of making the nastiest people into saints. She should have known they would make someone who people already saw as a nice person into someone even better.
They got back on the main road and drove slowly through town. Other than an occasional long line at gas stations, everything appeared normal. After a few minutes, the road stopped going straight and forked out in two directions.
“So what do I do now?” Pierce said, lingering at the stop sign.
“What city are we in?” Talia said. “Tuscaloosa?”
Pierce shrugged. “I’m just the driver.”
“This is Meadowbrook Drive,” she said. “Turn right.”
“Why right?”
“Just do it. Please?”
So he did.
Talia peered out the windows, leaning over Dallas and Sam. “This is 239,” she said, “And the one up ahead is 241. Keep going to 245.”
“What’s so significant about 245?”
“I know the girl who lives there.”
So they stopped in front of 245 Meadowbrook Drive, a one story red brick house with a neatly trimmed lawn and deep blue shutters. “So what do we do now?” Pierce said. “Just ring the doorbell?”
“How do you know this girl anyway?” Dallas said.
“Her name is Jenna Lee Miller. She’s a really big fan of Tatum’s and started sending me messages and stuff after she found out I was friends with her. I’ve sent a bunch of autographed stuff to this address.”
“Wait a second Tally,” she said. “There are all sorts of things that could go wrong here. What if she’s not home? Or what if there is no “she”? What if this Jenna person is really some forty-year-old man luring in naive girls to rape and torture?”
“She’s real. I’ve talked to her on the phone.”
“You said she was a fan of Tatum,” Pierce said. “Was she at the concert Friday night? Why didn’t you introduce any of us to her?”
“Her parents wouldn’t let her go.”
“Why do you want to go in anyway?” Dallas said. “Why can’t we just head straight to Chattanooga? What can this girl do for us?”
“She might be able to help us out. Or we might even be able to help her out. If we can convince her that we’re not lying or crazy, that zombies really are out there, then maybe we can save at least one more person. Will you put that damn pizza cutter down? It’s perfectly safe.”
So they walked across the front lawn, onto the little porch, and rang the doorbell. There was a car in the driveway, but they waited for nearly a minute before the door opened.
The girl in front of them had smooth brown hair that hung down her shoulders, and was dressed in a jean jacket and khaki pants. A few freckles dotted her rosy cheeks. When she saw Talia, she smiled wide. “Oh my God, Tally?” she squealed. “Is that really you?”
“Yep, it’s me.”
Dallas didn’t think it was possible for anyone to smile wider than Jenna Lee Miller already was, but the girl somehow managed it. “Oh my gosh, I finally get to meet you! Well, you know, in person.” She giggled. “So who are your friends?”
“Oh.” Talia pointed behind her. “This is my sister Dallas and our friend Sam. And this is Pierce.” She smiled almost as wide as Jenna, and Pierce snuck his hand around her waist.
“Aw, you guys are so cute! Anyway, what’s going on? Hey, why don’t you guys come on in? My parents aren’t home so we can party.” She pumped her fist in the air, but nobody responded. She set her arm down and ushered them in.
The house resembled any other in a middle class suburb. The walls were adorned with family photographs, and a beige carpet covered the living room floor, which also held a fifty-four inch screen television and burgundy couch. Dallas and Sam took one side of the couch, and Talia and Pierce the other. Jenna sat in a leather arm chair facing them.
“You have a really nice house,” Dallas said.
“Thank you,” Jenna replied. “That couch is new.”
“It’s really comfortable,” Talia said, leaning back. “I could probably fall asleep right here.”
“You look worn out, Tally,” Jenna said. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. The last few days have just been kind of um...busy. That’s all.”
“Busy? What have you been doing? And why are you even here? Don’t you have school tomorrow?”
“Well, actually...that’s kind of what we wanted to talk to you about.”
“Talia, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Jenna,” Dallas said, “Where are your parents?”
“They’re still at work. Why?”
“Are you guys boiling your water yet?”
“Boiling water? Because of that stupid virus?” Jenna snickered. “No way. Mom and dad say this whole thing is being blown out of proportion anyway. Remember swine flu? Yeah, this is even worse.”
“It’s not stupid,” Talia insisted. “We came here from New Orleans because we...well, we saw the...zombies firsthand.”
“Zombies? Come on, you really believe that crackpot theory? Some idiot just made that up to get a kick out of people dying. Pretty pathetic, if you ask me.”
“Jenna,” Dallas said, “Tatum’s dead.”
Jenna squirmed. “No she’s not. She can’t be. There would be news reports, and media coverage.”
“We saw her. I watched her die. And there have been reports on it all day.”
“Yeah, well, I saw a report yesterday that there were zombies in a gas station in Meridian. Some idiot even took a picture of it and tried to pass it off as real. You can’t believe everything you hear, especially with stuff like this going on. Whatever this virus is, people are panicking. They’ll believe anything.”
“Jenna,” Talia said, “Even if you don’t believe us about Tatum or the zombies, there’s definitely a contagious, one hundred percent fatal virus going around.”
“Fine then.” Jenna sighed. “How do you get this virus? I’ll try to avoid it.”
“By drinking unfiltered tap water. And…probably by biting. We haven’t actually seen anyone get bitten yet. Well, except the ones who got eaten.”
She snickered again. “Biting? Look Tally, I’m really sorry if I’m being rude. I’m sure you guys mean well, but there’s no reason for me to worry. If Tatum really is dead...well, I’ll find the scum bag who did it and make them pay. But whatever this virus is will probably be wiped out in a few months, and everyone will stop flipping their shit over it.”
Dallas opened her mouth again, but closed it when Sam put a hand on her shoulder. She knew nothing they said would convince Jenna, who had up a sturdy brick wall. “Well,” she said, “Can you at least tell us where we can get weapons?”
“Weapons? A
ll right, if you guys are serious about this, there’s a little gun shop a few blocks from here. I’ll write down the directions for you.”
The gun shop Jenna led them to was on a rocky, unpaved road, across from a pawn shop with dusty windows. “I don’t get it, Sam,” Pierce said as they walked in. “Why do you want a gun? If they’re drawn to something like a cell phone ringing, then a gunshot is going to draw even more of them.”
“We are going to draw even more of them,” Dallas said. “We’re their primary food source, so they’re going to evolve to be able to hunt us easier, noise or no noise. And we can’t keep fighting them off with pizza cutters and Sunday School scissors. Besides, Sam and Tally and I all know how to use them already. So we should.”
Talia examined a row of bows on the far side of the store. “Hey, these look like they could work pretty well too.” She held one up for everyone to see. “We had to do archery in gym this year, so I know how to use them. And they make a lot less noise, if you guys are still worried about that.”
A back door opened, and a thirtysomething man in torn jeans and a flannel shirt walked out. “Can I help y’all with anything?”
Dallas stepped forward. “We need a colt .45.”
“You looking to shoot someone?”
“Well, not someone. More like...something.”
“What? Like a deer or something? You’d probably be better off with one of those bows over there like your friend has.” He spit the wad of tobacco into a jar.
“No, not a deer. We just thought with the whole...you know, zombie outbreak, we needed to protect ourselves.”
The man snorted. “Zombie outbreak...the hell are you talking about?”
“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but there really are zombies out there and we need a gun.”
“Zombies?” The man chuckled. “I got to give it to you, you kids sure are creative. In my day when someone under eighteen wanted a gun, they just got someone to buy it for them. Zombies...I’ve got to write that one down.”
Damn, Dallas thought. She really had screwed that one up. She looked back at her companions, silently pleading with them to help her.
Talia stepped to the register and glanced at the man’s name tag. “Hey um...Chad,” she said. “Do you happen to like pop music? I know a lot of guys don’t, but I bet you’re pretty open minded. Do you ever listen to...say, Tatum Jones?”
Chad paused, another wad of tobacco halfway to his mouth. He set the container down. “Tatum Jones? I got a niece that loves her. Cute girl. Seems like a real sweetheart.”
Dallas bit her lip hard to keep from laughing. “She is sweet. She’s also one of our best friends.”
“You don’t say?”
Dallas leaned across the register and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “How would your niece like tickets to Tatum’s next show? Backstage passes? Meet and greets? You name it, we’ve got it.” Chad was looking at her with longing eyes, so she twisted another lock of hair around her finger.
Finally he stood up. “Forget it,” he said. “You girls are cute, not saying you aren’t. But you’re not worth going to jail for. Not again.”
And then they saw it. A woman, shambling up from the back of the store. She walked straight through the flap door and onto the sales floor. She had pale, green tinged skin and a white film over her pupils, telltale signs that she was no longer among the living. Her forehead was bright red, as if she had banged her head repeatedly against a wall.
Chad turned around and groaned. “Dammit, Ma,” he said. “I told you to stay in your bed!”
“Shit,” Dallas said. Behind her, Pierce gasped and fingered the scissors in his back pocket.
“Sorry,” Chad said. “My Ma here’s been a little under the weather lately. I told her to get some rest, but then she started up and walking! Stubborn old lady.” Pierce brandished his scissors. “Woah, boy! Careful where you point those things. You could take someone’s eye out!”
Ma Zombie was just as fast as Blondie from the gas station. She was headed straight for Pierce now, her arms raised and her teeth bared. As she grabbed his shoulder, he stabbed her throat without so much as flinching. Ma gurgled, and Chad shouted obscenities as he lunged for Pierce, who held the scissors back up, but to no avail. Chad grabbed him by the throat and took the scissors, holding them under his chin. Sam kicked in the glass by the register and pulled out one of the guns, holding it up to Chad. A loud ring pierced the air.
“Let him go!” he shouted.
Chad gasped. “What the hell are you doing, boy?”
“I said let him go!”
Chad laughed. “Go ahead and shoot me!” He shoved Pierce in front of him, still holding the scissors to his throat. “You’ll have to go through him first.”
Dallas stood frozen in her spot, her heart hammering in her chest. Sam aimed the gun at the wall and fired, but there was only a click. Chad cackled. “I knew it! You can’t intimidate me, boy! I’m —”
He was cut off abruptly as something thin and round flew into his leg. Dallas looked up and saw Talia holding up the bow; even from across the room, she could see her sister’s hands visibly shaking.
Chad fell to the floor. Pierce tumbled along with him but scrambled up, grabbing the scissors. Chad groaned, a pool of blood seeping from his wound.
“Shouldn’t we do something?” Talia said. “We should call 911.”
“That alarm should have triggered the police,” Dallas said. “Grab some more arrows and let’s go.” She pulled a handful of bullet boxes off the shelves and Pierce reluctantly picked up a case of bows, and another of arrows.
They headed back to the car, weapons in tow. Sam took the driver’s seat and the others got in the back. He sped off quickly, but thirty seconds down the road there were sirens behind them.
“Oh my God, what have I done?” Talia said.
“Nothing, Tally,” Dallas said. “You did what you had to do.”
“No, I didn’t!” Talia’s eyes were red. “God Dallas, I probably just killed someone!”
“You’re kidding, right? You shot him in the leg, Tally. He’ll be fine. The cops will come and take him to the hospital, and they’ll fix his leg.”
Talia spent the next few minutes with her head resting against the seat. Then she grabbed the door handle. “Pull over, Sam,” she said.
“What? Why?”
“Pull over right now, or I’m going to puke all over the back seat!”
So he veered to the curb, tires squealing. Talia ran for the grass and vomited by a large oak tree.
Dallas waited until her sister had stopped heaving before going out to meet her. She grabbed a drink for her on the way out, remembering their first gas station trek when the roles were reversed.
Talia didn’t cry, but pressed her head firmly into Dallas’s shoulder. They sat under the shade of the oak tree for several minutes until Sam and Pierce joined them.
“Are you okay?” Pierce asked. “I mean, all things considered.”
“I’ll be fine.” Talia opened the soda and took a swig. “You guys are right. I didn’t have a choice.”
“You know,” Pierce said, “If you hadn’t done that, he probably would have killed me. You saved my life.”
They sat like that for what felt like ages, saying nothing. Pierce cradled Talia in his arms and, for once, Dallas didn't feel the urge to vomit.
She hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. It was almost completely dark now, and the street lights had come on. A few hundred feet away, crickets chirped in the trees.
Dallas looked to Sam, but his gaze was ahead of them. “What are you looking at?” she asked.
He pointed ahead of them to the three story brick building whose front lawn they occupied. “It looks like there are people in there.”
Talia sat up. “Maybe this town isn’t abandoned.”
“It’s probably not,” Dallas said. “Tuscaloosa sure wasn’t. Nowhere close. Maybe the
virus hasn’t spread this far yet.”
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “It’s so quiet.”
Dallas turned and looked in the window. The door and left side windows were completely boarded up, but the right window had one loose board hanging over a portion of the glass and blowing slightly in the wind. All the lights in the room were still on. She crept to the window and peered in.
The office had a gray carpeted floor, multiple cubicles, and several computers and copy machines, all up and running. People sat at their computers, clicking buttons furiously. But none of the moved otherwise, and it wasn’t until her companions joined her and Talia spoke that she fully realized what she was seeing:
“They’re all zombies.”
A zombie man in a white dress shirt shuffled across the carpet. He passed the copy machine, where his (former) co-worker slowly punched the same button again and again, creating multiple copies of the same memo. Or at least tried to make copies — Dallas couldn’t see the other side of the machine, but it had to be out of paper by now. Zombie Man headed for the far side of the room, to a storage closet with the door partly open.
Talia gasped. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Dallas, come over here so you can see this better.”
Dallas angled herself to the left, where she had a better view of the storage closet. It was bigger than she imagined, and the floor was covered with half eaten corpses in business suits. A lone eyeball had rolled a few feet away and stopped against the wall, a string of nerves protruding from the ends.
“Wow,” Pierce breathed. “What do you think happened?”
“They must have boarded themselves up, thinking they’d be safe,” Dallas said. “But one of them had to already be infected.”
“Maybe they didn’t know how it’s spread,” Talia said. “I wonder why they aren’t going after us?”
“Maybe they don’t need to,” Pierce said. “They already have plenty of food. If Dallas is right and we’re just their prey, maybe they’ve already...fed enough for now.”
Dallas looked around the office again. Copy Machine Man continued to push the same button. The zombies at the computers clicked at their keyboards. The man headed for the storage closet reached his destination. He bent down and took a few bites out of a woman in a dark skirt before shuffling across the room again, running into the fax machine and fiddling with buttons. Other than him, none of the zombies showed signs of changing their behavior, nor did they pay Dallas or her friends any attention.
State of Emergency Page 9
