by Brown, TW
“She says she was the only one and that she was actually acting on her own,” Jon added hastily as if to settle my fears. “I am almost confident that she is telling the truth.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because the bastard broke three of my fingers!” the girl spat.
To emphasize her point, she held up her tethered hands. Sure enough, three of her digits were at angles not originally intended. I shot a look at Jon who just shrugged.
“I didn’t really have a lot of time to use more esoteric methods,” he said. “And as it is, when we get up to the cabin, I intend to get some more information out of her. You are obviously in no shape to help—”
“Help?” I blurted. “What would make you think I could be any use in…in…”
“Torture?” the girl finished my sentence with the word that I couldn’t get myself to say.
“Shut up,” Jon snapped.
He began to poke and probe around my head; then he looked at my shoulder. I could see a look of concern on his face, but I was past caring. I felt like crap; it was not like I hadn’t been through the wringer a few times already. This was just the latest in a series.
“You took a nasty shot there,” he finally said, indicating my shoulder injury. “And another half inch and we wouldn’t be having a conversation.” Now he was back to focusing on my head wound.
“Yeah…well sometimes you get lucky.” I didn’t really feel all that lucky, but I guess I was since I was still alive.
“We need to get you to the cabin and patch you up before I do anything else,” Jon said as he helped me to my feet. “Plus, that is where anybody else will return now that it looks like we ran these folks off.”
“Yeah—” I wanted to tell him that nobody else would be joining us, but at that moment, my weight shifted just enough to put a bit too much pressure on my leg and I ended up yelping like a kicked puppy.
“Can you make it?” Jon asked.
I nodded and we started up the path with Jon’s captive in tow. I was starting to have a serious problem with keeping my eyes open.
“Stay with me, Steve.”
“Where else would I go?” I quipped, trying to be just a little funny. Unfortunately what came out of my mouth sounded nothing at all like the words in my head. I felt Jon’s arm around my waist tighten and he seemed to be trying to carry me up the hill at this point.
“You so much as twitch in a way I don’t like and I won’t hesitate to take you down,” Jon growled.
“Like you aren’t gonna kill me already?” I heard the woman reply.
Woman, I scoffed. She didn’t look much older than Teresa. Where was she by the way? I couldn’t recall having seen her lately. My brain tried to send an answer, but I did not seem to be able to pick up on it at the moment. Hmm…that sucked because I know it was something important.
“C’mon, buddy…almost there,” I heard Jon in my ear. His voice sounded funny. And am I wearing ear plugs? I can barely hear.
Realization came in a flood. It was a moment of clarity, and I knew that it would be the last.
“This is it,” I managed to say.
Jon started babbling, but it wasn’t making any sense. It was just noise at this point.
I have to admit that I am just a little disappointed. I don’t see any bright light, there are no faces of those I love beckoning me. On the plus side, there is no sinister darkness or roaring flames waiting either.
I am a little upset that I won’t be able to say anything to Thalia…Melissa…or anybody else. I keep trying to say something to Jon. I want him to lay me down and just let me be. It isn’t supposed to be like this.
In the books and movies…the guy dying always gets to gasp out something. I can’t make my mouth work. Hell…I can’t even get any air in my lungs.
Damn, that means I can’t breathe anymore. I wish I had five more minutes…but don’t we all when we reach this point?
7
Vignettes XXXIII
Emily-zombie followed the small group into the woods. The warmth was just ahead, several sources. The sounds of screams and shouts only helped keep her and those around her headed in the right direction.
Something hit her in the stomach, but she no more felt that than she felt the Bowie knife jutting from her chest. Still, every so often, something in a very small part of her mind would spark. When a burst of gunfire erupted just to her left, Emily-zombie moved deeper into the pack.
When the first of the heat sources was stumbled upon, Emily-zombie waited for a few of the others to drag it down. Once it was on the ground, she no longer received any sparks that made her cautious. She fed until the warmth was gone and then rose up and continued after the others.
At one point, she eventually ended up alone. As she continued to push through the wall of white that often reached as high as her shoulders, she would sometimes come to a stop. It was not that she lacked the ability to move, it was simply that she felt no drive to continue moving.
When a sound came along, she would adjust and move accordingly in that direction. Every so often, that spark would fire and Emily-zombie would move away from the sounds. On more than one occasion, she would discover a source of heat that drew her near. Only twice did she actually take the opportunity to feed. It was a single source, and when she discovered it, it was so faint that she would have missed it if she had not literally stepped on and fell over it.
Not much larger than her, this source made no sound and no effort to move when Emily-zombie tore into it. She did not notice the figure beside this poor unfortunate that had frozen solid. Nor did she notice that her “victim” was kept in place by the frozen appendages of that figure.
Once the warmth was gone, Emily-zombie continued on her way. She paid no heed to the figure that eventually fell in step beside her other than to hiss at it once when it tried to move past her as she headed away from a source of warmth that was making a terrible noise. She never noticed the bullet that tore through her temporary companion’s head and sent it toppling over the railing that had steered her back on course more than once as she continued along the lonely mountain road.
Late one night, a terrible wind came, followed by a blizzard that dumped over four feet of snow in thirty-six hours. That storm proved to be too much and Emily-zombie could no longer move in any direction. There was a silence that came, so she felt no actual need to move and simply stopped.
It would be weeks before the weather changed enough to allow Emily-zombie to move again.
***
“It is good to see that you are well,” a male voice said.
Aaheru was not happy that the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the far-too-close face of Otmar Ali. Not only did his breath leave a lot to be desired, but he was speaking around a mouthful of something green that threatened to fall out and land on his face with a wet plop.
“Perhaps now we can leave this horrible place,” another voice whispered from the shadows.
Aaheru lifted his head enough to look around. They were in what looked like a small shack barely large enough for one person, much less the four of them. It stunk of rotten fish and human waste.
“Where are we?” Aaheru asked. He tried to sit up, but the sudden pain in his arm made him wince and cease any movement. He would not show weakness in front of his people…no matter how few.
“Not far from the beach, my pharaoh,” Otmar Ali answered. “I carried you as far as I could until those foul beasts came. I wish that I could have provided you with a better location than this.” He waved his arms around to indicate the tiny fish cleaning shack that seemed to be shrinking by the second.
“And are we all that remain?” Aaheru asked.
“I heard screams shortly after we made it inside, but I dared not risk opening the door for fear that one of them might get inside and attack you while you were defenseless.”
“You have done well,” Aaheru said with as much of his authority and might that he could muster. “And
who else made it inside with us?”
“One young man—” Otmar began, but was interrupted by a voice that was comically deep when coming from such a tiny frame.
“My name is Caleb Massri.” The deep, rich voice almost seemed to cause the walls of the tiny shack to vibrate.
Aaheru could not suppress his smile when the puny boy with wide-set eyes moved forward and presented himself. He doubted if the boy was old enough to grow hair between his legs, and his limbs were so gangly; they looked as if you could pluck them off with no more effort than that needed to remove the wings from a fly.
“I live so that I may serve in your glory and honor, Pharaoh,” the boy continued.
So, Aaheru hid his smile now, I have found Ahi’s replacement. That is most fortuitous.
“And the woman’s name is Irisi.” Otmar elbowed the boy aside, obviously not wanting to be outdone by one so young.
Aaheru craned his neck as much as he dared, eager to see what fortune had bestowed him now that his dear Ahmes had been taken from him by the dead. A slight pang of loss closed his throat just a bit as he also considered that the loss of Ahmes also meant the loss of the child she was carrying.
The woman was pulled forward by Otmar and presented. Aaheru made no attempt to hide his displeasure. Even in the dim light that seeped through the cracks in the door and walls, he could see her face. He’d ridden camels with a sweeter countenance. And the gap between her teeth would almost allow one of those camels passage. Her lips were thick and reminded him of a giant worm coiled around that gaping orifice of a mouth that sat just below a nose that was crooked, wide, and looked to have been smashed once or twice.
Surely there would be other women. There must, Aaheru thought with more than just a little desperation. He doubted that he would be able to function even if she were facing away from him during the act.
A loud thump came on one of the walls, causing all of them to jump—even Aaheru, who paid for his reaction with a jolt of pain. The woman even let loose a little shriek which was rewarded with additional thumping on the wall opposite the door.
Aaheru looked down at his arm and scowled. It was wrapped in filthy rags. To make matters worse, when he moved, he could actually feel the bone shift.
“Has no one attended to my arm beyond this?” He went to lift the appendage, but the instant pain from even just slight movement kept him still.
“Most humble apologies, my pharaoh,” Otmar stammered. “None of us possess the skill to do anything more than wrap it tightly and secure it with a sling.”
Aaheru tried to force down the bile in his throat as the pain threatened to cause him to be sick. He needed to be a leader now more than ever. The first thing they needed to do was get out of this putrid smelling fish shack.
“You, Caleb, I want you to kill that demon outside before its pounding brings others and we end up making this our tomb. Otmar, help me to my feet and let us be prepared once the way is clear.”
“But that is the problem,” Otmar was almost whimpering as he spoke, “they are everywhere out there. This is not the first one that has come slapping against our walls. And if we remain silent, they go away in an hour or so. That is usually when we hear the screams.”
“Wait!” Aaheru barked just as Caleb was about to open the door and charge out blindly to do his pharaoh’s bidding. “How long have we been in this shack?”
“Four days,” Otmar replied.
“And how many times have you heard screams?”
“Ten…perhaps twelve?” Otmar’s answer was tentative. He could hear anger in Aaheru’s voice, but was uncertain as to the reason.
“And why did you not think to find help in all this time?”
“As I said…I did not want to leave you unguarded where one of those things might get in and harm you,” Otmar sounded more unsure of himself with each word.
“Or perhaps you are a coward,” Aaheru stated with no emotion. “You yourself have said that any time the pounding occurs, all you did was wait it out. Eventually it went away…usually followed by screams.”
“I offered to seek help twice,” Caleb interjected.
Aaheru saw the look on Otmar’s face and knew the boy was speaking the truth. It would seem that this young lad was full of more courage than the much larger man who had suddenly lost all favor and usefulness in Aaheru’s eyes.
“And so this child…this boy…he has more courage than you?”
“No, my pharaoh,” Otmar insisted.
“Then you will offer me proof by finding us a way to someplace more fitting.”
It was not a request. To add emphasis to his words, Aaheru rose to his feet. He could feel the pain screaming in his arm, but he turned his grimace of pain to a look of fierce anger. He towered over the man who had taken an involuntary step back, almost behind the woman.
“It shall be as you say,” Otmar stammered. He opened the door a crack.
Dead fingers slipped inside instantly. With one shove, Aaheru used his good hand to propel the cowardly Otmar Ali out the door. With the door wide open, Aaheru needed a second to adjust his eyes to the light of the late afternoon sun. Still he could see well enough as Otmar fell flat on his face. The zombie that had been at the door turned its head and fell more than pounced on the man.
“Come,” Aaheru said calmly, “let us not put Otmar’s valiant sacrifice to waste.”
With that, he stepped around the flailing man who was trying with no success to get the creature off his back. Blood was already flowing freely from a rip just below the man’s right ear.
The trio stepped out onto the litter-strewn pathway. Putting the ocean at their back, Aaheru led them up a gentle slope. In the distance he could see a few huts still standing. They would offer little in the form of security, but it was a start.
True to their nature, the dead in the area converged on the sounds of screaming. Halfway there, Aaheru nodded at the young man walking at his side. The boy stuck out his foot and tripped the woman. As the small cluster that had been following them set on her, Aaheru smiled. It seemed that she was not as useless as he had initially thought. Her screams faded as he and Caleb ducked into a dark hut.
***
Juan did one final check of all the doors and windows. Of course he had already done five prior walkthroughs to ensure that the house was as secure as possible. He hated what he was doing, but he really saw no other alternative. Frank was thinking with the same head that had been the downfall of many young men before. Hopefully he would be more reasonable when Juan returned. He was less optimistic about Donna.
As if to confirm his assumption, she scowled at him from behind the gag. He sighed and forced the voice in his head that was telling him what a monster he was being to be silent. Hoisting the full Navy-issue sea bag over his shoulder, Juan headed up the stairs.
“I will be back in two days. You should be able to work yourself free from those ropes. I didn’t tie them very tight. When I come back, it will be with a team that will be prepared to expect resistance. The way that meeting goes depends on you. I will even give you my word that we won’t completely empty this place out. I will leave this house untouched. There is enough here for the two of you to make it through the rest of the winter.
With that, Juan turned on his heel and left. He felt bad for Frank. The kid wasn’t using his brain. Sure, the girl was nice to look at, but somebody had blown the dots off her dice. She really had no grasp on what was happening. To think that they could simply play house in the midst of the end of civilization was just stupid.
Stepping outside, he had to pull his coat up around his face and tug the stocking cap he’d liberated from the hall closet down over his ears. Great, he thought as he tossed the drab-green bag into the back of the truck he’d secured and actually managed to get started, a freezing rain was going to make the drive that much nastier.
He gave the big Ford diesel truck a light smack on the hood on his way to the gate at the end of the driveway. This would get him back
down to the waterfront. He knew the area well enough to know that there was a winding access road that emptied out right by a wood-treatment mill on the river. From there he could go on foot until he reached the boat. It would be what he hoped was a simple task of heading back, stopping off to load everything from the truck, and then back to the island and Mackenzie.
Taking a cautious look around to ensure that there were no zombies too close, Juan lifted the latch and slowly rolled the gate open. It squeaked more than once causing him to freeze in place. After what seemed like forever, he finally had the gate open wide enough to allow the truck to exit. He would not have to be as cautious closing it, for that he was thankful as he crouched low and hurried back to the loaded and waiting vehicle.
Climbing into the cab, he stood on the step for a moment and took a good look around. He would only have two parts of this operation that put him in harm’s way. The first part was securing the gate after he left the driveway of the house. The next part would be when he exited this little gated community. Both times he would have to actually get out of the truck.
A voice he hadn’t heard for quite a while spoke up. Just take what you got and screw those punks. That voice sounded a lot like Gary Messer for some reason. He took a deep breath and turned the key. The engine roared to life causing the head of every zombie in the area to twist in his direction.
Juan popped the truck into gear and rocketed to the street. Sure enough, a zombie stepped out in front of him as he reached the cul-de-sac. The body launched several feet. If he hadn’t known exactly what he hit, Juan would have guessed that it was a garbage can. Clothes and parts went everywhere. As he jumped out of the rig and yanked the gate shut, two zombies came out from behind a nearby hedge. Having no need to be quiet, Juan brought the same pistol that Frank had held on him only moments before. The first shot from the SIG Sauer P239 sounded like a cannon. The effect it had on the zombie’s head was almost equal to the noise as the entire back of the head seemed to burst open and spray its contents.
