“No, I want to understand this, Josie. You've never killed one of those things?”
His tone implied disbelief, that perhaps he suspected me of leading him on to some grand punch line. I couldn't bring myself to look at him and continued to study the never-ending field of white that stretched out before us.
“Nope. Never.”
“But you said you had a shotgun?”
“Yeah, I said I had a shotgun. Never said I used it, though.”
Carl was silent for a moment as he mulled over this distinction and I listened to the Doc's labored breathing and the soft swishing noise made by the stretcher as it was drug through the snow.
“How the hell are you still alive, kiddo?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I don't know. Luck maybe? I've just been really good at avoiding them, I guess. Except for the silo. That was just stupidity on my part.”
“You've really never killed a zombie?”
I sighed and felt my chest tighten with frustration. Why was it so hard for him to believe I could make it as far as I had on wits alone?
“Look, Carl... I've spent the last fifteen years of my life practicing non-violence. I've embraced vegetarianism. I believe that every life is sacred, that there is a spark of the Almighty within every leaf, every squirrel, every person, dog, fish, or chicken.”
My tone was sharper than I had intended but somehow it felt as though a decade and a half of my personal beliefs were being put on trial.
“You probably don't know how hard it is just to abandon everything you ever believed in. Seeing as how, by your own admission, you don't believe in anything.”
“Look, Josie, I didn't . . .”
“But I look at those things and I wonder how they fit in. I won't kill a rabbit just so I can eat its flesh to stay alive. But would I kill one of them if I were being threatened?”
“Josie, I.... ”
I had grown so angry that tears streamed from the corners of my eyes and left icy trails down my cheeks; my hands were balled into fists so tightly that my knuckles ached.
“So don't lecture me, okay? Don't sit there all smug and mighty on your high horse and tell me how wrong I am because I'm having a little fucking trouble figuring out how my beliefs fit in with all this shit.”
We walked in silence for a while; I stomped through the snow with more force than was required while Carl lit and smoked the last cigarette from his dead man's pack.
“Look, Josie,” he finally said softly, “I didn't mean no offense. And I'm truly sorry for riling you up that way. I was just kinda shocked, that's all. Hard to believe someone could be out here so long and never had to kill one of them bastards.”
I nodded my head silently and began trying to replay the conversation in my head. Had he really said anything to ignite the fury I'd unleashed on him? Or had he simply been a handy target for the conflict that raged within me?
“Believe you me, there's a lot of killing I wish I could go back and erase. A lot of death I'd rather just forget. So, in a way, I really envy you, I guess. Your conscience is clean. And that's pretty damn rare these days.”
There was something in the way his voice cracked, something in the pain that tinged his words, that made me finally glance at him out of the corner of my eye.
“See, there was this time when all this began that I.... ”
For the first time in half an hour or so, Doc's voice boomed through our conversation.
“Town!”
Our heads snapped to attention and there it was: one of those little clusters of buildings that seem to pop up out of nowhere in the flat fields of the Midwest; like an oasis of brick and wood in a sea of withered cornstalks poking through waves of snow. The town seemed so tiny from this distance, like a scale model that had been constructed in God's basement, but the shapes of houses and stores were unmistakable.
“I reckon about an hour and a half or so and we oughtta be there. Sound about right to you, Doc?”
The wind had started to blow a little causing Carl's words to seem as if he were much further away than he actually was.
“Give or take, yeah, that's a pretty accurate estimate.”
And, just like that, our first argument came to a close as we trudged on toward a little town that, we hoped, would have the supplies we needed to save Sadie's life. But I always wondered: if Doc hadn't spotted the town, what would Carl have told me that day? What closely guarded piece of his past would he have brought out into the light?
By the time we were within half a mile of the town, the wind had picked up to the point that we had to turn our heads away from its force just to see where we were going. Carl and Doc had swapped positions with the stretcher and for a while he and I had tried to make conversation with Watchmaker. The old man, however, was not in a talkative mood and the chill of the wind quickly dashed any further attempts at brightening his mood.
Silently, I'm sure we were all praying for the same thing: a small-town pharmacy that had remained unlooted or perhaps a doctor's office with supplies of medicine still intact. Though muffled by the piles of cloth covering her and the howling of the wind, we could still hear Sadie cough every now and then and with each wet hack my heart fluttered with concern.
“What the fuck?”
The urgency in Carl's voice made us all turn our heads into the wind from which we had previously tried to hide. In the distance, a wall of white advanced across the prairie like something from a biblical passage: it towered fifteen, maybe twenty, feet in the air and blotted out everything within its path, seeming to devour the occasional tree and crooked fence line as it barreled toward us.
“Holy shit.... ”
“We gotta move people!” Doc yelled out. “We gotta move now!”
“What the fuck is it?”
Doc dashed to the end of the stretcher and picked up the other end so that it was like a bridge connecting him to Carl.
“White out.” he called out. “Biggest fucking one I've ever seen. Now move!”
Doc barked out the words like a drill sergeant, leaving no room for further discussion as he and Carl tried to run through the snow without toppling Sadie into the dunes.
“Watchmaker, grab Josie's coat. Josie you grab mine and for God's sake people keep up and don't let go!”
As Doc would later tell us, this type of whiteout is created when a strong wind surges across the plains; the wind scatters powdery snow and lifts it on its gales, scooping up millions of tiny crystals with each passing second. With no mountains or natural barriers to impede progress, it forms what he referred to as a blizzard without any actual snowfall. And this parapet of snow and wind was gusting toward us at sixty-plus miles an hour.
We knew we'd never make it to the town before the storm overtook us, but we needed to close as much distance as we could before it hit. The whiteout could blow by us in as few as five seconds... or it could rage around us for much longer, depending on how strong the wind was.
“Move, move, move!”
We couldn't risk getting turned around in squall, wandering further and further from the town that possibly held Sadie's only hope for survival. There was no other option than to push forward as quickly as we could.
We'd closed maybe half the distance by the time the howling winds blasted against our bodies with the force of a linebacker. I wasn't prepared for how strong the gust would be, hadn't braced myself for the shock of nature pushing at me with all of her might.
I staggered sideways, stumbled over my own feet, and fell face first into the snow. At the same time, I was aware that the pressure of Watchmaker holding onto the hem of my jacket was suddenly gone. And that Doc's jacket had slipped from my grasp as easily as if it had been oiled.
Standing as quickly as I could, I looked around, trying desperately to find the others. But everything was obscured by a veil of whiteness so dense I could barely make out my own outstretched hands as I spun around, trying in vain to catch sight of my companions.
&nb
sp; My heart hammered within my chest so hard I could feel the rhythm pound in my temples. I tried calling out for Carl, for Doc, for Sadie and Watchmaker; but the wind blew my voice back at me and made it sound so tiny and lost... even to my own ears.
Lurching forward, toward what I thought was the direction we had been heading in, I tried to fight off the images which haunted my mind: my body, lips blue and ice crystals stuck in my eyelashes, lying rigid and frozen in some godforsaken field that would never be tilled again.
Though I knew it was futile, I screamed Carl's name again and tried to listen past the keening wind for even the faintest reply.
And it's funny, but all I could think of as I pictured myself dead and stiffened in the subzero temperatures was Carl. How I would never see his crooked little grin again. How he would remember me as the woman who bit his head off on her last morning alive.
But then, like a phantom materializing within a cloak of fog, I saw a fuzzy silhouette form in the blinding whiteness. It's hands were reaching out for me, ready to pull me back into the warmth and safety of the group.
“He found me.” I thought as the fear leached from my body, leaving my formerly tense muscles feeling tired and spent. “He found me.”
“Carl!”
I reached through the shroud of snow and wind, stretching my fingertips forward until finally connecting with his outstretched hands.
Only, it wasn't the slick vinyl of gloves I felt beneath my hands. No, what I felt was so cold that it seeped through my mittens. And it had a rough texture, like something that had been cracked and chafed and abraded to the point that the flesh had begun to flake off.
Before I had the chance to realize what this meant, it seized my wrist and I was yanked forward as a blackened, gnarled face emerged from the obscurity of the storm.
At the same time, I heard – very faintly – an ancient voice screaming out in terror and pain.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE CHILD
I don't know how long I was there in the hallway, kneelin' down in front of the keyhole but not really lookin' through it anymore. It was almost like the whole world just kinda stopped when I saw Mr. Carl shoot my Mommy: I wanted to cry but couldn't, wanted to scream at him through the door or just pound away on it 'til my fists were all bloody. But every muscle in my body felt like it'd just froze in place.
After a while, I thought I heard Mommy's voice, only it seemed like it was somewhere inside my head and not comin' from the other side of the door.
“Run baby.” She told me. “He'll kill you, too. Run!”
So I stood up and started running as fast as I could down the hallway only I was in so big of a hurry that I bumped into a little table and the vase that was sitting on it crashed to the ground.
“Jason!”
It was Mr. Carl's voice behind me, loud and booming and I could picture his gun pointing at me but didn't take the time to turn around and look.
“Jason, no!”
I crashed through the door and was outside again. For a second I just kinda stood there, not really knowin' which way I should go but I could hear Mr. Carl's footsteps runnin' down the hall so I knew I hadta go somewhere, anywhere... I couldn't just stand there and let him shoot me like he had Mommy.
So I ran across the yard as fast as I could, jumpin' over flowerbeds and these little pink birds that were stuck in the ground all over the place.
“Jason, come back!”
Mr. Carl's voice was getting' softer each second and I kept expectin' to hear the boom of his gun but kept right on runnin' anyway. He might've killed me, but I wasn't gonna make it easy for him that was for sure. I remembered something I'd seen on TV and started zigzaggin' back and forth as I ran to make it harder for him to shoot me, which is probably why I never did hear a shot.
And then I was back in the woods again and I felt a little safer cause I knew the trees would help protect me from his bullets and stuff. But I still kept runnin' though cause I didn't want him catching up to me.
“Jason!”
And my Mommy would have been so proud of me. I kept runnin' and runnin', just like Forest Gump, and before too long I couldn't hear Mr. Carl hollerin' for me anymore so I started slowin' down a bit. My legs were hurtin' real bad and my heart felt like it was gonna beat right outta my chest so I stopped for a second and sat down on this old tree that had fallen over.
I was catchin' my breath and listening to the wind in the leaves when I started thinking about Mommy again. I kept hopin' that I'd see her walk through the trees, her arms spread out for a hug, smiling so big that her eyes would look kinda squinty.
“I was just foolin'.” She'd say. “Just trickin' Mr. Carl so we could get away, baby. And you did good. You did so good.”
Only part of me knew this wasn't gonna happen. I could sit there and watch the woods until all the nighttime creatures started comin' out and I could holler for her until I couldn't holler no more and she'd never come. And it was all his fault.
If it hadn't been for him, Mommy woulda been there and she woulda been able to tell me exactly what I needed to do. She woulda knew where to go next, where to get food and stuff. But most importantly she woulda been able to hold me and rock me in her arms like I was just a little baby and tell me everything was gonna be all right. And I wanted that more than anything else in the world. To smell the perfume I'd gotten her last Christmas and that she wore every day, for her to kiss my forehead and sing me a little song.
Now, I'm in the woods too only all those blurry people are around me again. We're still walkin' and it still hurts every time my feet hit the ground but I just can't stop and rest like I did the day Mr. Carl killed my Mommy. I just hafta keep going on, like someone else is in control of my body and I don't have no choice or nothin'.
It's almost dark but up ahead I can see someone. It looks like a woman and she's got her back turned to us and I can't really make out what she's doin' but she's kinda crouched down.
We get closer to her and I can see these little sparks as she runs her knife across a rock or something'. There's a little pile of twigs and old leaves in front of her and every time she scrapes the rock, the sparks fall down onto them and she starts blowin' like she's trying to cool soup or something.
I feel really excited when I look at this woman, like I just wanna run up to her for some reason, only at the same time I feel really angry and I wonder if it might be because her hair kinda looks like my Mommy's. But all of the blurry people around me seem kinda worked up too because they're walking a lot quicker now.
And I start wonderin' if maybe the real reason we're trying to get to this lady as quick as we can is because she isn't blurry and fuzzy like everyone else. I can see the checkerboard pattern on her coat just as good as I can the trees and bushes around me and I can see every piece of hair on her head too and the way leaves are kinda stuck to it in places.
And she has this smell that's kinda like a mix between old fruit and sweat and the smell makes me even more madder, but I don't know why 'cause it’s just a smell.
We've almost made it all the way to her when she hears us behind her or something. She stands up real quick and spins around and her face looks like she just saw a ghost as she starts backin' away real slow. At the same time, she's lookin' around like maybe she's lost something and the blurry people are all rushin' toward her now and I am too.
She starts screaming and her voice hurts my ears so bad that I just want her to shut up, to stop yelling and be quiet, and it makes me even more mad that she won't.
She kinda dives toward this really long knife like the one jungle explorers use to cut through vines and stuff and she just touches its handle with her fingertips when all of the sudden we're all piling on top of her.
I can hear her clothes being ripped as we claw at her and she's still screaming and for a second I see her boob only I don't feel all embarrassed like that time when I walked in on my babysitter changin' clothes.
She's still screaming and kickin' and tryin' to push
us away but there's too many of us and I start seeing blood squirtin' everywhere. It smells rusty and salty at the same time and its warm on my face and chin, so warm that I didn't realize exactly how cold I was before.
And I've got something rubbery in my mouth, something that tastes like I bit down on an old penny or stuck the tip of my tongue against a battery. But at the same time, I like the way it makes my mouth feel nice and toasty and as soon as it's not warm any more all I want is another piece, a little bit more make my tongue feel like it’s a cat sleepin' in sunlight.
The lady isn't fighting as hard now. Maybe she realizes we just don't wanna be cold no more and that she can help. Or maybe it's 'cause she's startin' to get a little fuzzy now herself. It's almost like her face is melting in front of my eyes, her nose and lips and ears kinda smoothing out into one big blur that starts to go down her body, covering everything in its path.
By the time the lady is just as blurry as everyone else, she's stopped moving altogether and I don't feel that excitement any more. None of the others seem to either 'cause we're all standing up now and starting to walk away. When we were with the lady, it didn't hurt no more but now I can feel it starting again, like little needles bein' shoved into the bottoms of my feet. And my eyes are starting to sting and my skin feels like its shrinking and crackin'.
Maybe she didn't want to be alone anymore or maybe she was starting to feel cold too, but the lady in the checkerboard jacket stands up and for a minute it almost seems as if she's about to fall down again. But she doesn't and she just kinda falls in with the rest of the group, just like kids used to do when we had to go back inside at the end of recess.
And I can feel that tugging again only its stronger than what it was before. It's almost like I've got an invisible rope tied around my waist and am being pulled through the woods by something a lot stronger than me. My new friends follow along behind me and I don't know if they feel it too or if they're just kinda playin' Follow The Leader.
Either way, I don't really care. All I know is that I want to be warm again, that I want to find someone else who'll share their heat, that I want the hurting to go away. Even if only for just a little bit.
The Dead & Dying: A Zombie Novel Page 9
