“Human.” he called out. “Humans here. Don't shoot!”
He walked slowly through the doorway, keeping his hands raised as if he were a prisoner and I fell into line behind him.
“We don't mean no harm. We just need a place to rest for a spell. To get warm. Then we'll be moving on.”
Our original assessment had been correct: there were two men in the barn, both pointing shotguns in our direction. They seemed skittish, which was understandable as we had just burst into their refuge.
There was a large stump that someone had drug into the barn, probably to use as a seat or table, and Carl slowly began to lower his pistol toward it, making sure to keep his palms facing the frightened men.
“Look, I'm puttin' down my weapon, see? We ain't looking for trouble, guys. It's just me and the lady. A couple hours and we'll be out of your hair. We just need to rest.”
Something about the men made me nervous and I wasn't sure what. They looked like any other survivors we'd encountered: shabby clothes ripped and stained with fluids you didn't want to ponder for too long, hair a stringy tangled mess, faces lean from hunger and roughened by exposure to the elements. But there was this feeling that I couldn't shake: a queasy nervousness as if I had just encountered some entirely new life form, perhaps a human-rotter hybrid.
I wanted to tell Carl to tuck the gun back into his pants instead of placing it on the stump, to tell him to keep it close at hand. But, at the same time, I felt slightly silly. So far, these men had given me no reason to distrust them. In fact, they looked just as frightened as I probably had when Carl and Doc first found me back in that silo.
“See, fellas. I'm not armed. Name's Carl. This here's Josie. We don't want no trouble.”
The one with the red beard turned to his companion and whispered something. The other one, who I'd begun to think of as Scarface due to the pink gash that covered his left cheek, furrowed his brow and whispered something back.
“Look, Carl, let's just go and find.... ”
“We got food. Not a lot, but we'll be happy to share.”
The two men finally began to lower their shotguns and it was almost as if I could see the tension melt from Carl's back and shoulders. I, however, was still uneasy.
“I'm Roscoe.” the redhead said. “This here's Freddy.”
Freddy nodded but remained silent as the pair walked over to the stump and placed their guns beside Carl's weapons.
“You folks from around here?”
Neither one of them answered for a moment and I could feel their eyes on me. It had always made me uncomfortable when men would appraise me with a leer, their gazes lingering on my breasts as if they defined my entire worth as a person. I shuffled closer to Carl who somehow seemed oblivious to my nervousness.
Finally Freddy spoke.
“From up north. Heading south out of this fucking cold shit. You said you got food?”
“Yeah, in my pack.”
In the center of the room I could see where they had made a pile of hay and began piling scraps of wood and timber on top. They began walking toward it and we followed.
“Looks like you fellas were getting fixed to have a nice little campfire. Sorry we scared you like that. Thought there were rotters in here.”
The redhead walked into the shadows and I heard the creaking and splintering of a plank being ripped from a stall. Carl had taken his pack off and was rummaging through the piles of clothing for the canned vegetables that were in the bottom.
Freddy said nothing but shook a cigarette out of a crumpled pack and lit it with the flick of a lighter. At the sound, Carl's head snapped up for a fraction of a second.
“Say, friend,” he said, “you reckon I can get one of those off you? Been about three days since I ran out. Three long days.”
Freddy blew a slow plume of smoke from his puckered lips and I felt his eyes crawling over me again. Though covered by layers of clothing, I somehow felt as if I were as exposed and vulnerable as if I were standing naked before him. After what seemed to be an eternity, Freddy finally replied.
“Tell you what, partner.” he said. “You let me play with your girl's big 'ole titties for as long as it takes for you to smoke it and we got a deal.”
“Excuse me?”
Carl stood quickly and stepped to the side so that his body shielded me from view.
“Look,” he said, “ I reckon it might be best for us to just move along now.”
His words were short and clipped, his jaw set at that particular angle it got when he was upset about something.
“Best of luck to you fellas.”
He stooped back down to re-zip his pack when there was a blur of movement. Without warning, the redhead had charged from the shadows with a two by four clutched in his hands.
Growling like an animal, he swung and I heard a sickening thud as it slammed into the side of Carl's head. Almost immediately, Carl slumped to the ground and I turned to run but it was too late. I felt hands grab the back of my jacket and push me forward so forcibly that my feet got all tangled in each other.
I feel forward and my forehead crashed into hard, unforgiving wood with enough force that bursts of light exploded before my eyes.
I felt dizzy and nauseous as I rolled over onto my back and the room seemed to swim in and out of focus.
Roscoe had dropped the two-by-four and was in the process of pulling a hunting knife from a belt sheath; Freddy was walking toward me, undoing the zipper and button on his jeans as a cold smile spread across his face.
Everything went dark for a second and reality struggled to reclaim its grip. Bits of the barn disappeared into shadows only to reemerge seconds later. The man before me wavered in and out of focus and everything sounded as if I were hearing it through the other side of a wall.
“You're gonna like this, girlie. But probably not as much as me.”
Laughter.
“Go ahead and kill that one. No use for him. Once he's out of the way we can take as much time as we need with this little beauty here.”
I tried to raise my head, to scramble backward but there was a ringing in my ears now so loud that it made me eyeballs seem to sting and my muscles seemed incapable of following my brain's instructions
I was vaguely aware of the redhead squatting over Carl's body, the knife in his hand gleaming in the half darkness, as his friend began tugging at my jeans.
I tried to call Carl's name, but only a hoarse whisper escaped my mouth.
“We're gonna have us a hot time tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: THE CHILD
At first I thought it was one of the monsters that had busted through the door, but when I found out it was Mr. Carl I think I was even more afraid than if it had been a monster. He tried to pick me up but I started kickin' and scratchin' and yellin' for help just like Mommy told me to do if anyone ever tried to take me. But he was so much bigger than me that I had to grab onto the rope that was comin' down outta the ceiling and hang on for dear life. He kept tryin' to pull me away but I wouldn't let go and then somewhere over our heads a bell started ringing and when he heard that he started usin' all kinds of bad words.
For some reason, he kept lookin' over his shoulder as he cussed and pulled at me and he looked really scared, like maybe he thought the bell would let the police know he was tryin' to kill me like he did Mommy. So I screamed for help even louder which caused him to cuss even more and he started yankin' at me so hard that the rope felt like it was biting my hands.
I wanted to let go so bad but I knew if I did he would take me somewhere that no one would ever find me. After we fought for a bit he finally said the really bad swear word – the one Uncle Bobby used to saw when he'd hit his fingers with a hammer. And just like that, he let me go; only he didn't do it real easy like. He just dropped me and my hands were suddenly slidin' down the rope and it felt like all my skin was being peeled right off. But then I hit the floor and the pain in my leg got so bad that I screamed just like Suzy Bobbins did tha
t one time when she stepped on the broken glass.
I could see Mr. Carl but he looked all watery cause my leg hurt so bad I thought I was gonna start cryin' again. He'd took the gun he'd used to shoot Mommy out of his pants and I knew why he'd dropped me: he musta thought it would just be easier to kill me right then and there since I was fightin' him so hard and everything.
Only, he didn't shoot me. Instead, he spun around so that he was facin' the door and at the same time a monster came bustin' through. This was one of the fast ones and he kinda looked like a regular person 'cept there was this big hole in his cheek that I could see his teeth and the side of his tongue through.
The monster came runnin' at Mr. Carl, jumpin' and fallin' over the benches in the church like he didn't even care that they were in the way. It's hard to explain but part of me wanted that monster to get him, to rip him into a million tiny bits and make him pay for what he did. But I also knew if the monster killed Mr. Carl then it would come after me next. I kept tryin' to stand up so I could run away but it kinda felt like there was something inside my leg grinding against something else and it hurt so bad that I felt like I was gonna throw up as I fell back down again.
Mr. Carl just stood there, watching the monster as it got closer and closer to him. When it was only a few benches away he shot his gun and all of a sudden there was this little black hole in the monster's forehead and it fell backwards across the benches as everything crashed down around it.
He didn't take no time to make sure it was really dead but ran to the doors of the church instead and threw them shut. Then he picked up one of the benches and smashed its legs real hard against the wall. They broke right off and he kinda flipped it around and did the same thing to the other set of legs and then kicked away the part that made up the back so that it looked like he was just holding a big board.
The doors started to fly open and I saw this hand that looked like the claw of an evil old witch reaching through. But Mr. Carl slammed his body against the doors and they shut on that hand over and over and over until finally there was a really loud crack and it just kinda fell off.
The whole time he'd been holding the broken bench close to his chest and now he started trying to slide it down into these two hook-like things that were attached to the wall on both sides of the door. I'd seen things like that in cartoons about knights and knew that was how they used to lock doors before they had real locks; and I also knew the reason that the doors looked like they were bulgin' out was because the monsters were on the other side tryin' to force their way in.
Finally, Mr. Carl got the bench slid into the hook things and he just kinda fell backward onto his butt and sat there breathin' real hard. His hair was all covered in sweat and when he looked over his shoulder at me I could see in his eyes what he was thinkin'... he was sittin' there wonderin' what the best way to kill me was.
I didn't want to look at him no more so I just closed my eyes really tight and laid there, waitin' to hear the sound of his gun and feelin' like I had to pee worse than I ever had before.
Mr. Carl didn't shoot me though. Maybe he thought it would just be too easy. Or maybe he wanted to make me really hurt. That's probably it, because after the monsters were locked out of the church he started bein' really mean to me.
He came over and squatted down next to where I was layin' and started tryin' to talk to me but I wouldn't answer. Didn't matter, though, cause he just kept right on talkin' anyway.
He started pokin' around at my hurt leg and every time he did it felt like someone was jabbin' a knife into me. I remember him sayin' how my leg was broke and then he said he was gonna hafta sit on it or something and that it was gonna hurt real bad. He took my leg in both hands and asked me if I was ready and all I wanted to do was claw his eyes out. It was like he was just makin' it worse by tellin' me how he was gonna make me hurt. But before I could do anything, he kinda pushed real quick on my leg and I screamed so loud and it hurt so bad that everything went dark and then it was like I'd fallen asleep somehow.
When I woke back up, I noticed that he'd taken two pieces of wood and tied them to my leg. I figured this was probably so I couldn't run as fast if I tried to get away, which was stupid cause I wasn't even able to stand up or anything.
I don't know how long we sat there and listened to the monsters pounding on the doors but it seemed like forever. He tried to tell me stories, tried to talk to me, but I kept quiet and wouldn't say anything back. After a while I could tell from the light coming through the colored windows that it was startin' t' get dark outside and my stomach growled real loud.
“You hungry, kid?” he asked me and since I didn't want to talk to him at all I just nodded my head. Which was maybe kinda cheatin' but my belly felt like it was shrivelin' up.
He pulled out these cans and started opening one up and it smelled just like the tuna salad sandwiches Mommy used to make me. My eyes got all watery but I didn't want him to see me cry so I kinda turned my head around like I was looking at the big painting of Jesus that hung on the wall. I didn't cry though and when I turned back around he had a handful of this pink meat he was holding out to me. Mommy had always said I shouldn't eat with my hands but I was so hungry that I know she would have said it was okay in this case.
It didn't take long to eat the tuna fish he'd given me 'cause I just gobbled it right up. I sat there waiting for him to open the other can too, but he just put it back in his pocket and I knew I was gonna have to say somethin'. Which is probably what he wanted all along.
“I'm still hungry.” I told him. “I want more.”
Mommy probably would've been mad because I didn't say please but I didn't see why I had to use manners with someone who was just gonna kill me anyway.
“Sorry, kid.” he said. “We gotta make it last.”
And then I knew exactly what his plan was. He didn't shoot me when he had the chance 'cause he was gonna make me starve t' death. I knew that as soon as I was asleep he was probably gonna take that tuna fish and eat it all up by himself and that made me really mad all over again.
“You got another can.” I said. “I seen it. I want more.”
He just looked at me for a minute and then slowly shook his head.
“Sorry, but maybe we can have some more tomorrow morning.”
I was so mad that I turned my whole body around even though it made my leg hurt really bad. I crossed my arms over my chest and kept thinkin' again and again how I wished it was him that was dead and not my Mommy. And then, for some reason, I thought about the big black birds I seen before I came to the church. There were dead monsters layin' in the street and these big old birds were just eatin' away at 'em. And it wasn't fair that those birds had something to eat and I didn't and it was all his fault. Maybe I'd just wait 'til he was asleep and eat that tuna fish myself.
Or maybe I would wait 'til he was asleep and take his gun from him. Maybe I would do what he did to Mommy to him and see how he liked it then. And I would still get all the tuna fish I wanted and not have to share any of it with him. I'd never shot a gun before but it looked easy. You just point it and shoot.
“I'm really am sorry, kid. Maybe we should just try to sleep and then morning will be here before we know it and we can eat again.”
And I thought that sounded like a really good idea. Just let him go t' sleep.
But then I heard Mommy's voice in my head and she was sayin' no baby, it's wrong, don't do it baby. Which made me real confused 'cause I figured she would want me to get back at him for killing her but the voice just kept right on sayin' please don't do it, please don't.
And I knew that Mr. Carl was lucky this time. 'Cause if it hadn't been for my Mommy I really woulda done it and I wouldn't have felt bad or nothin'. But instead, I really did go to sleep and all night long I dreamed that Mommy was bringin' me hot dogs and pie and meatloaf and all kinds of good stuff. Only every time I'd get ready to take a bite Mr. Carl would show up outta nowhere and snatch it outta my hands.
Even
my dreams weren't fair and I remember thinking in them 'bout how I wanted to be one of them black birds. At least they weren't bein' starved to death by a killer. At least they could fly away from all of this. But if I was a bird I would peck out his eyes and poop on his head.
I really would, too.
I can't wait for him to die.
I hate him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: CARL
I knew the kid was hungry. Hell, my own stomach felt like it was turning inward and devouring itself amid rumbles and waves of nausea. So I figured it had to have been ten times worse for the boy. He'd come from a world of coco flavored cereal in the morning. Perhaps a snack between a soup and sandwich lunch and a full spread at dinnertime. The worst hunger he'd probably ever felt was waking up in the middle of the night with thoughts of the cookie jar on the kitchen counter.
But things weren't really looking good, ya know? I kept hoping that some poor son of a bitch might wander into town; that the zombies would go after him like flies on shit, giving us enough time to slip unnoticed into the woods. But the hours kept dragging along, day turned to night and then to day again. I rationed out the tuna as best as I could, aiming for a subtle balance between taking the edge off the cravings and making these few cans last as long as possible. Hell, I didn't know how long we'd be holed up in that there church with those rotting bastards pounding away at the door. So I did what I thought was best. But even then, the food was gone before we even had a chance to really feel it in our bellies.
To try and help pass the time, I started reading out loud from a bible I'd found up by the pulpit. Began with “In the beginning” and just keep right on going until my throat was so dry I sounded like a sickly creek frog.
But I started thinking as I read that maybe all this had happened before. If you took the stories I was reading as history enshrouded in religious superstition, it was all too easy to start seeing the similarities.
The world, after all, had been our Eden. All of our needs had been taken care of. Everything we could ever want was right there in our garden and life was actually pretty damn easy. But then some old guy in the sky got pissed: we were cast out into the wilderness, forced to fight like animals just to secure the basics of survival. And who knows? Maybe the reason 'ole Cain bashed in his brother's skull is that Abel had come down with the slack-jawed vacant expression of a rotter. And if little brother got a tasty little chunk of flesh during the exchange then that would sure as hell explain why the first “murderer” was condemned to wander the earth and not able to be killed by those who crossed his path wouldn't it?
The Dead & Dying: A Zombie Novel Page 14
