by Brown, TW
At some point, Jenifer-zombie had moved to the front of the pack, so she saw the source. It was stretched out on the ground, moving slowly towards a small creek bordered by tall grass. She reached it just as all but one leg had disappeared into that grass. One stiff hand grasping an ankle.
There was no recognition of screams of terror or pleas for mercy. Jenifer-zombie bit into the warmth and for a brief instant, the cold receded. Jenifer-zombie fed, never once comprehending the words spewing forth from that source of momentary warmth. Likewise, there was no understanding as the shrieking form on the ground was torn open. Others joined the feast, and a smaller, singular source of that warmth was pulled free. It squirmed, but unlike the larger source, this smaller form made no sounds.
Within moments none of that smaller source remained. The larger source quickly grew cold and lost its appeal. It rose, falling in with those that consigned it to its current fate. This newest member had trouble at first staying on its feet until the thick, fleshy cable tangled around one foot tore free from where it extended out between its blood-soaked thighs to trail behind the creature as it lumbered up the long, canopied dirt road.
***
Juan eyed the three men suspiciously. They had all placed their weapons on the ground as he’d told them to and laced their fingers behind their heads. His street-sense told him that these guys were criminals. Just like you, the voice in his head reminded.
“You gonna keep us here like this all day,” the tall skinny one snapped, breaking the silence.
“How ‘bout I plug you now and make it so you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’ but dyin’?” Juan swung the pistol to bear on the guy with the bad attitude.
“Yo, Keith,” the broad-shouldered black man glanced at his companion, “you need to chill, dude.”
“Fuck that,” Keith spat. “This guy kills us or he doesn’t. Since I ain’t shot yet, I’m thinkin’ he prob’ly ain’t gonna.”
“I only need one of you to tell me why you’re here,” Juan shrugged, “but if you think I’m afraid to pull the trigger…you’re wrong.” Juan’s eyes narrowed and the look on the faces of the three men changed. They’d just realized that he was like them. “Only reason you ain’t dead yet is I got some people that might not understand if I shot you for no reason.”
“We’re looking for somebody,” the third man, who’d been silent up till now, blurted. “Keith here has family on this island.”
“Who?” Juan asked the slightly balding man with stubble growing in on what was probably a shaved head in more normal times.
“Jack Billings,” the man named Keith said.
A gasp from behind him made all three of the men Juan held at gunpoint glance past his shoulder to the thick brush where Margaret and Mackenzie were supposed to be hiding and keeping their guns ready just in case. Juan sighed as he heard the rustle of branches. Great, he thought, they’re coming out.
“How do you know Jack Billings?” Margaret’s voice was an angry hiss.
“Umm…” Keith looked nervous as his eyes stared past Juan. “He’s my uncle.”
A shot rang out, sending Keith’s two companions diving to the ground. Keith had staggered back, and now was looking down where a crimson stain was spreading across the upper left side of his chest.
“That bastard beat and raped my daughter!” Margaret dashed past Juan who was still stunned by the sudden turn of events. Raising the butt of her rifle, she brought it down, smashing into the temple of the stunned man who was now on his hands and knees.
Jade began barking and lunging forward, but Mackenzie, who now stood beside Juan, had her by the collar. The two men face down in the sand glanced up, and Juan could tell they were considering their chances of jumping the woman just a few feet away.
“Everybody back the fuck off!” Juan yelled and fired into the sand close enough to shower both the men and dissuade them from the course of action they were considering. “Margaret! That means you, too!”
“But—” Margaret turned, her tear-streaked face a mask of rage.
“Nothing,” Juan cut her off. “Just back off. This guy ain’t done a damn thing. Now step off so his crew can check him out.”
“He’s Jack Billing’s nephew!” Margaret insisted.
“But he’s not Mister Billings, Mom.” Mackenzie said softly.
“Check your partner,” Juan nodded to the two men who were glaring up from the sand.
Both scurried up and scrambled over to Keith’s unmoving body lying sprawled on his back. The black man was tearing the bloody shirt off while the other guy placed fingers at Keith’s throat, presumably searching for a pulse.
“He’s alive, JoJo,” the man said, and tucked the ruined shirt under Keith’s head.
“Bullet went all the way through, Thad.” JoJo brought one hand out from behind their downed companion to display his bloodied hand.
Mackenzie peeled off her own shirt as she let go of Jade’s collar and moved to help. Juan relaxed the grip on his gun and jammed it into his holster. He shed his own long-sleeved, flannel shirt and moved past Margaret to help also.
“There’s a house just through those trees about a hundred yards across a cornfield,” Juan offered. “We should get him off this beach and clean this up.”
Thad and JoJo looked up at each other, then at Juan and nodded. After quickly deciding who’d grab his feet and who would take the upper-body, they were moving. Occasionally Keith would cry out; Juan imagined that it certainly could not feel good to be carried that way. Once they reached the cornfield, Juan and Mackenzie moved to either side of the man’s body and made a basket with their arms that they used to help support the middle of Keith’s torso.
Margaret followed the procession silently, Jade padding along at her side. Already, every detail of the past several minutes was becoming a blur in her mind. She’d shot a man, and now, she couldn’t exactly remember why. It had something to do with Jack Billings. But was that possible? Jack Billings was dead.
They reached the front yard of the large, long-abandoned house. Juan glanced back at Margaret. She had a dazed, empty look on her face. Shock. Great, Juan thought, we don’t have time for this. “Margaret!” he snapped. The woman looked up at him slowly…confused. “Get up there and get the door open. Check the bathroom for hydrogen peroxide or alcohol.”
“And some clean rags,” Mackenzie added.
“And a bottle of booze,” JoJo piped up.
Except for Margaret, every head turned towards him. Each with varying degrees of a scowl etched on their faces.
“For Keith,” JoJo said defensively. “Take some of the edge off the pain. Especially once we start gettin’ in there and cleanin’ that wound.”
Heads nodded in agreement, everybody relaxing their disapproving grimaces. Margaret moved past, stumbling up the stairs, obviously still in a serious state of shock or detachment.
As carefully as possible, everybody climbed the stairs. The group made its way to the bedroom that Margaret stood in the doorway of, obviously recovered enough to start thinking and helping. They lay Keith down, who let out a moan in response.
“At least he’s still with us,” Mackenzie said in a reassuring voice. “Juan, get a fire going out back, we’re gonna need hot water and—”
“We might need to cauterize the wound,” Thad spoke up.
“Yes,” Mackenzie nodded. “I’ll need everybody to gather up any antibiotics, either here or at a nearby house. Mom,” she raised her voice and the older woman jumped, “I need those clean rags and something to clean this up with.”
“You a nurse or doctor or somethin’?” JoJo asked.
“Nope,” Mackenzie shook her head, “but I took a series of first aid and CPR classes when I was growing up so I could babysit. I enjoyed it, so I took a few courses when I was in college. Never know when a nasty injury will happen on the farm.”
“Cool,” JoJo nodded. “Hey, my name is—”
“Later,” Mackenzie cut him off. “We can d
o the whole introduction thing later. Right now we need to tend to your friend.”
Everybody filtered out to take care of the tasks Mackenzie assigned, leaving her alone with the injured man.
“Keith Thomas,” Mackenzie whispered as she wiped off the man’s forehead. “It’s been a long, long time.”
***
“Take care of Ronni,” Donna’s voice was a harsh whisper. Her hand came up to Chad’s cheek, he tried not to flinch at the coldness.
“You know I will,” he nodded.
“I’ve spent my life protecting her.”
“And so will I.”
“No,” Donna shook her head, “you don’t understand. I did my best to keep the world from her. She doesn’t understand. I didn’t let her.”
Chad was confused. Had she kept his reason for being in prison from her? He could tell that she was trying to tell him something specific. There was more being said than just the words.
“Ronni is special, Chad.” Donna’s voice was growing weaker. “I didn’t let the world get to her, she won’t understand. Take her away from all of this. Don’t let the world get her.”
She’s delirious, Chad thought sadly. He wiped the perspiration from her forehead and ran a hand down her cheek. It was so odd, the way her hands were so cold, but her face was burning up.
He struggled to continue looking Donna in the eyes. It was difficult not to show any revulsion at the way her skin was slowly turning that pale, death-grey and sagging loose, seeming to be slowly melting off her skull. And her eyes. Laced with the darkness of death. Once, long ago, he’d loved staring into those eyes. Now, it turned his stomach. And then there was the smell. No matter how much they cleaned the wounds, or gave Donna a sponge-bath, that smell lingered.
“Promise me,” Donna whispered. “Promise you won’t let the world get to her.”
“I promise,” Chad said, still not understanding exactly what it was that the woman meant. “I promise, Donna.”
A sound at his back had Chad reaching for his shotgun. “It’s me!” Brett raised his hands, his body halfway inside the tent flap. “Sorry, man. Look, I’m takin’ a group up to the creek. Ronni’ll be with us.”
He’s been eavesdropping, Chad thought, he knows that Donna is about gone. “Thanks, Brett,” Chad said, and turned back to the woman who lay panting, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts. It would be any minute now.
Donna gasped once suddenly and her eyes opened wide. She looked up at Chad and her features seemed to transform for just an instant. “Take care of our little girl.”
Then, slowly, the light that remained dimmed. Chad hopped up, refusing to allow the tears building in his eyes to fall, and grabbed the end of the sleeping bag. He knew, especially from the past twenty-four hours, that he only had a moment or two. Dragging the sleeping bag out of the tent, he pulled it into the brush as far from camp as possible.
He’d made it over a small mound and into a fern-filled little gully when he saw the eyes open. The white film coated them, making the black stand out all the more. Dropping the end of the sleeping bag, he pulled the .22 caliber pistol from behind his back.
“I’m so sorry, Donna,” Chad continued to fight the tears, “I shoulda stayed in there with you and Ronni. Watched over you. Protected you. This is my fault…and…I’m sorry.”
Bringing up the tiny pistol, he forced her back down with a booted foot as she began to try sitting upright. Donna’s mouth opened and let loose a low moan that seemed unnatural and different from what he remembered her voice sounding like even moments ago when she was on the verge of death. No, Chad told himself, that wasn’t Donna.
Not anymore.
He pressed the barrel of the gun against her forehead and pulled the trigger. A muffled ‘pop’ sounded, seeming loud in his ears. The body stopped squirming. With his free hand, he closed the lifeless eyes for the last time.
It was done.
***
Lawrence Tynes walked back inside and shut the door, only partially muffling the moans, howls, and cries of the undead below. It didn’t seem possible, but there were more today than yesterday.
Nope, he thought as he sat down at the small desk that now served as his breakfast table, they ain’t showin’ no signs of leavin’. They knew he was up here. Not for the first time, he cursed Steve Hobart and all those who’d left him. Somehow, they’d tricked him into staying with Cindy and the others. And to add insult to injury, they’d taken all the supplies and both vehicles.
He picked up the large, plastic water jug and shook it. He could hear liquid sloshing around. It was at least half full. If it would only rain, then the three pans he’d placed on the roof of the fire watch tower would replenish his supplies.
He could do it. He could survive this. Hell, he’d survived two tours in Vietnam and three wives. He could damn sure survive this!
“I will!” He yelled. “I will survive this!” He turned to Cindy Minor, a fierce look on his face. “You wait and see…this is just a setback. I can last this out. All I need is a little rain.” He began to weep, but just as quickly as it began, he brushed it away.
Rain. That’s all he needed. Those abominations down below…zombies…or whatever folks had taken to calling them… they didn’t realize who they were messing with. He was Lawrence-goddamn-Tynes. He’d survived the Hanoi-fucking-Hilton. This was paradise by comparison. If those things below thought they could break him, then they pure-dee did not know who they were messin’ with. No siree, Bob!
Glaring outside, he saw them, with their dark pajamas and greasy black hair. Upturned faces with sinister slanting eyes mocked him. But it was he who mocked them. They needed him to come down. And that simply was not gonna happen. All he needed was a little rain. Just enough to refill his jug and get through another week.
Lawrence sat down at his table. Yep, he’d show ‘em…he’d have breakfast. And wouldn’t they all just give their left nut for a taste. Again, he glanced at Cindy, her blank eyes staring back as he cut into the strip of meat on his plate. There wasn’t much of this left now that he thought about it. That was okay, he’d go out later and carve off another piece from where the rest of Cindy hung to cure and dry.
In the corner, two young men continued in vain to struggle with the bindings that held their wrists and ankles secure. Their voices long gone from screaming against the gag. The older man sitting at the table adorned with Cindy Minor’s head as a macabre centerpiece, glanced over his shoulder.
“Yep,” he said, “gots me plenty of food…just needs me a little rain for some water.”
14
One Geek, One Girl
“Just a little farther,” Heather urged for probably the tenth time in the past hour.
“No,” Cary groaned, and slid to the ground. He couldn’t go anymore. Not without a rest first.
“Okay,” Heather conceded. “We’ll take five.” She eased Kevin down beside Cary. He continued to stare blankly ahead.
Well, Heather thought as she took a seat across from the two men, at least he’s kinda conscious. She wondered if she looked nearly as bad as those two. Both were covered in dried blood and dirt. Both had bruises all over. Kevin’s eye had swollen completely shut. She touched her own left eye. It was bad, but she could see well enough.
Glancing up the rows, there was no sign of the enormous mob of zombies that had poured out of Heath in response to Kevin’s huge explosion. They’d been cutting through the immense cornfield, heading away from Heath while simultaneously moving away from the edge of the field. She’d never considered how far this thing stretched. They must be coming close to an edge. Of course, the three of them weren’t moving very quickly. Faster than zombies, but that wasn’t saying much.
“We need water.” Cary broke the silence.
“Maybe I could double back towards the house,” Heather offered.
“No, the wind was taking the fire right towards it,” Cary said. “I’m guessing that it has reached it by now. The only thing saving
our asses, really. I wouldn’t be surprised if this doesn’t burn the rest of Heath to the ground.”
“Not much of a loss,” Heather sighed. Sure, she’d grown up there, but two years ago the family took a vacation to California. They saw all the favorites: Disneyland, Magic Mountain, Universal Studios. As an added bonus, the Indians were in town against the Angels. She’d seen her favorite baseball team in person for the first time. She and her mom went on a shopping spree. That’s when Heather had fallen in love with The City. So much to see, to do. A man with a guitar sitting on the sidewalk caught her attention. His fingers seemed alive and his voice was…beautiful.
“Heather,” Cary whispered, bringing her crashing back to a cornfield on the outskirts of Heath, Ohio.
“Huh?”
“Kevin keeps mumbling something.”
She glanced over. He was still staring blankly ahead, but his mouth was moving. She leaned forward, but couldn’t make any sense of whatever he might be trying to say.
She sat up and gave Cary another once over. He was awfully pale. They really needed to find a spot where they could rest, clean themselves up, and get a little food and water. She briefly wondered how many times they would have to start all over from scratch. Sure, they had a couple of weapons, but nothing to speak of as far as firepower. The little they had wouldn’t let them shoot their way out if things got sticky.
“Stay here.” Heather climbed to her feet.
“What are you doing?” Cary asked.
“I can move quicker alone—”
“That’s what I was saying earlier,” he interrupted.
“No, idiot.” She shook her head. “I’m gonna cut straight across and see if I can get to the end of this field. I’m going to move up from here, hopefully not drift too far left or right so that I can come back to you once I know how far we have to go.”
