by Brown, TW
“That is amazing,” Amanda finally said after a long pause. “I guess that puts our plan in the rubbish bin.”
“What plan?”
“We were actually considering making an attempt at reaching London,” Amanda said with a sigh. “Some of the girls were holding out hope that maybe there might be something left. If there was any serious resistance against these things, we just figured that it would be in London.”
Amanda handed a flask over to Vix who accepted it with a nod and a smile. She took the last swallow of aged, single malt scotch and savored the slight burning as it traveled down her throat.
“So what about you?” Vix asked.
“Not nearly as exciting,” Amanda let her head fall back against her chair as she closed her eyes. “The team was playing in an exhibition. This was my farewell tour so to speak. Thirty-five is old in this line of work. I was considering some offers to coach at a few schools and just enjoying one last go. We had a match scheduled here…well, actually in Harlow.”
There was a moment of silence and Vix thought Amanda was finished. She was about to agree that her story was indeed quite dull. But then Amanda continued.
“We thought that it was just a rowdy crowd. When things started going a bit crazy, we kept right on playing. And then one of those things fell over the rail and got up. It was horrible, blood all over its face and…stuff…dripping off it that shouldn’t be.
“We made it to the bus, most of us that is. I ended up in the driver’s seat. We drove like crazy, those things seemed to suddenly be everywhere…”
Amanda continued with her story, but Vix was drifting in and out of consciousness. It was a sudden scream that jolted her awake, her eyes seeing almost nothing in the near perfect darkness of night. She was initially startled to find herself seemingly bound, but quickly realized that it was nothing more than a thick blanket that had been placed over her on the chair and tucked in snuggly.
Freeing herself and then feeling around, her hands discovered the chair beside her was vacant. Vix rose to her feet, her hands going instinctively for a weapon only to discover that she was not carrying any. She mentally cursed herself for being so careless.
She turned and found the window and climbed through. Vix could hear a terrible commotion coming from downstairs. Her hands closed on something; a guitar. That would have to do.
Moving to the stairs, she hugged the wall, all of her senses on full alert. For the hundredth time in the past thirty seconds, she cursed herself for being careless and letting her guard down.
“…out of your mind!” a voice screamed.
A second later, the sound of a horrendous crash came, quickly followed by something made of glass smashing into the wall just a few feet away from where Vix stood on the stairs.
Vix hurried the last few steps to see what looked like a rather unfair fight. Six of the women were holding Gemma who had blood trickling from her nose and the corner of her mouth. She was about to rush in and help when Harold stepped directly in front of her.
“Gemma!” Harold snapped. “Listen to me…nothing was happening!”
“You were practically naked!” Gemma spat.
“She was putting ointment on some of my injuries. That is all there is to it,” Harold spoke softly but with a surprising degree of firmness. “Those bites, while not turning me because of whatever immunity I have, were still a little infected.”
Vix slid down to the floor and started to laugh. It took a few seconds before everybody in the room—Gemma included—was looking at her as if perhaps she was the one who had lost her mind.
“What in blazes do you find so funny?” one of the women finally asked. Judging by the welt over her eye, she was probably the individual that Gemma had attacked.
“The bloody dead have come back and are wiping out humanity,” Vix managed between her fits of uncontrollable laughter. “But we are still fighting over the same ridiculous rubbish. Maybe we should see if Trisha is still around and have a sit down on the couch.”
There were a few titters; all except Gemma and the woman she had punched in the face. Eventually, everybody was separated after repeated promises were made that there would be no more fighting. Vix retreated up the stairs, but only after she found her gear and brought it with her. Since they had not actually been given a proper bed yet, she returned to her chair on the roof.
There was still a slight chill in the air, but that thick comforter was enough to keep most of it at bay. She fell asleep with her sword in her lap.
The next time she was awakened, it was to Harold’s face uncomfortably close to hers. His eyes were red and his cheeks were tear-streaked.
“Gemma is gone.”
***
“Mackenzie?” the shadowy figure spoke.
Mackenzie breathed a sigh of relief. “Keith!”
“Is the big guy still alive?” Keith took a few steps down and his features began to show more clearly.
Mackenzie felt silly. If she had simply paid attention to the outline, she would have known right away that it was not April. Her wild mop of hair was a stark contrast to the buzz cut that Keith kept.
“Yeah, but he is out. She drugged him up with something.”
“Well let’s take care of April first…as long as he is okay,” Keith added quickly.
“He will be alright for a few.” Mackenzie swallowed hard before continuing. “Is April…is she…”
“Dead?” Keith finished when it was clear that Mackenzie was not able to say the word. “No. She is gonna have a hell of a headache when she comes to…and somebody will probably have to look at her jaw.” He flexed and shook his left hand.
The two returned upstairs to the main floor and made their way to the living room. Sprawled on the floor, April was indeed out cold. Keith pulled out a set of handcuffs and rolled the woman onto her stomach, bringing her arms behind her and securing them.
“Where did you get cuffs?” Mackenzie asked with raised eyebrows.
“They are Cathy’s.” He began to secure her ankles with a six foot long piece of clothesline.
“Cathy?” It took her a second. “Oh! The kid staying at your place?”
“She’s twenty,” Keith said, refusing to rise to the bait. “Not that it is any of your concern. And her dad was a cop before you get any other ideas.”
“Who’s getting ideas?”
“I thought Jeannie Simons lived here with April,” Keith changed the subject.
“She just moved in with some guy that she has been sort of getting cozy with,” Mackenzie said.
She was struck by how much she knew about each and every person who had joined their community, yet this entire situation with April had slipped past. Could she have been turning an intentional blind eye?
“So…do we know what set this broad off on her journey to Crazy Town?” Keith said with a chuckle as he gave the knot one final tug to make sure it was secure.
“She’s not crazy!” Mackenzie snapped with much more anger in her voice than she intended.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Keith threw up his hands. “It was your boyfriend that she has all tied up in the basement.”
Tears began to trickle down Mackenzie’s face.
“I wasn’t meaning anything…” Keith’s voice trailed off and realization crept in. “She was like your mom…wasn’t she?”
Mackenzie stood there, shaking with silent sobs. Keith moved in to put his arms around her and struggled to do it in a way that did not feel awkward.
“She must have run out of her meds a while ago…which is probably why she was so intent on making those runs with Juan.”
“But if she was like your mom…how could she have been a paramedic?” Keith asked.
“How do we know that she was?” Mackenzie pointed out. “People can say whatever they want these days and there isn’t anybody around to contradict them.”
“You have a point,” Keith agreed. “I mean, how many folks know about your boyfriend’s past. I have no idea what his b
eef was, but the man has done time…that is for certain.”
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Mackenzie sniffed as she knelt beside the unconscious woman and brushed some of her hair out of her face there was a large bruise forming on the side of it.
“But I’m not the newly elected president or whatever folks want to call it.”
“I guess we have to rely on character these days.”
“And look where that almost got Juan.”
“Oh God!” Leaping to her feet. Mackenzie turned and rushed back down to the basement. Thankfully, Juan did not show any signs of having roused from whatever he had been injected with.
A few minutes later, Keith made his way down the stairs. His eyes only paused briefly on the array of stainless steel implements that were obviously intended to put Juan through an incredible amount of pain.
“I found a cart big enough to put Juan in,” Keith said as he came up beside where Mackenzie still stood over the unconscious man with tears running down her face. “I think it would help him a lot if he wakes up in his own bed.”
“What are we going to do with April?”
The question hung in the air for several seconds. Keith did not have an answer; at least not one that would be very popular. Having grown up knowing Mackenzie and the issues that her mother Margaret dealt with, he knew at least somewhat how severe this problem could be.
It had been Margaret who shot him because his Uncle Jack had raped Mackenzie back when he and his two friends had first arrived on the island. Somewhere in her brain, she had made the connection between he and Jack Billings, his uncle—and not one that he even knew all that well—and that had been good enough in her mind.
He had not asked about the details when he came to and Mackenzie had not offered, but he didn’t need to know. And the funny thing was, he wasn’t even mad at Margaret when he eventually recovered; she was protecting her own. That was something he understood.
It was that mindset that told him the best way to handle this situation. The problem was that most everybody else here was already growing soft. They were starting to feel safe. They did not understand that the world as they knew it had changed dramatically and all of the rules were now out the window.
This was about survival.
***
Five weeks had gone by. They had indeed found a house that sat up on the hill just off a trail labeled ‘S Navajo Heights’ that gave them a surprisingly good view of much of the town of Moab. Surprising because Glenn could not understand why—if somebody was actually running things—this piece of prime real estate was unoccupied.
Of course the place had been utterly emptied of anything that might have been of any value. None of the windows were intact, and the walls were covered with some fairly obscene graffiti.
To the west, the little town of Moab lay below them; to their right was a small creek. The first night there, they had spotted no fewer than a dozen different light sources flickering from the town below. After discussing it, they came to the conclusion that it was very probable that there were multiple factions. Perhaps they had walked in to some sort of power struggle. That still did not explain why the mysterious woman (neither believed her name was Ann, and they had both agreed not to humanize her by giving her a real name) had taken Xander.
Slowly but surely, Cynthia healed from her injury; although there was a brief period where things took a bad turn as she seemed to develop some sort of infection. It had been touch and go for a few days, but she came out the other side.
Glenn was outside just as the sun was setting on what had been the hottest day so far. He had the general locations where they consistently saw light once it was dark and was confident he had zeroed in on the one he was certain had to be that house where he had left Kyle and Mel. He never realized before just how difficult it was to actually find things in the darkness.
The past few nights, there looked to have been a lot of activity in the area. He and Cynthia had heard shooting on at least five separate occasions since they had taken up hiding in their current location. The one thing that they had not seen were zombies.
“So, when do we go down and take a look for ourselves?” Glenn asked as Cynthia came out to join him.
“I think tonight is good.”
They had been planning this for the past several days. They were simply waiting for the right time.
“With that moon so bright, we should be able to find plenty of dark shadows to hide in, and at the same time, we should be able to see fairly decent for the most part.” Cynthia was already holding both packs in her hands.
Glenn nodded and slipped his on. Without a word, the two worked their way down into fringes of the town of Moab. They had plotted a general course that took them through a few very large circular crops that had become incredibly dense. The vegetation, which was now mostly weeds and thickets, was tall enough that they could make their way through standing up.
It took them longer than expected, but eventually they arrived at the outskirts of the duplex development. It was clear to Glenn immediately that there had been some heavy fighting in the area that took place since last time he’d been here.
Bodies, which thankfully only looked like black lumps, could be seen scattered here and there. None of them were moving, which was a good sign.
Glenn led the way as he and Cynthia crept closer to the edge of the development. A few times, they had to detour slightly to take down a zombie that would wander past. It was slow work and it seemed that, for some reason, every single sound was magnified a hundred times; at least when it was caused by either one of them.
“Stop!” Glenn hissed.
Cynthia froze, but her hand flexed once on the hilt of her machete as if for reassurance. Glenn motioned to a low wall that acted as a fence for a duplex just off to their left. The pair scurried over and pressed their backs to it.
A strange mewling growl came from just around the corner. It sounded like a zombie that was perhaps a bit agitated. It was also in the exact direction that they needed to go if they were going to get a look at that house. Glenn still was not exactly sure what Cynthia hoped to discover. However, he would do whatever he could so that she could get closure. He just hoped that she got it soon so that they could get the heck away from this place.
He scanned the area, but it seemed strange and unfamiliar in the darkness. At last, his eyes saw a flicker of light to the left. The dark silhouette of the copse of trees confirmed that they were in the right place. He pointed it out to Cynthia who was not paying attention to him at the moment. Her eyes were looking over the low wall of the fence they were pressed against.
Twice Glenn tugged at her sleeve, but she did not seem to notice. He got up to his knees and peered over the top to see what she might be looking at. His eyes scanned, but they did not see anything beyond a few hanging bodies. These were like the ones he, Kyle, and Mel had discovered the last time he’d been here. They were hung up from some of the wooden beams that stuck out above the garages of some of the homes as a sort of décor. This would make it so that zombies could get to them, but only do enough damage to the lower extremities.
Cynthia rose to her feet and started for a particular house. Twice her arm came out almost as an afterthought as a zombie closed in. Each time, the approaching zombie lost its head, body collapsing to the ground. Glenn paused both times to spike the head while the mouth moved soundlessly and the eyes looked up at him in what he considered perhaps the creepiest thing ever.
He caught up to her as she stood at the foot of a driveway. There were a half dozen figures hanging from the overhang. All had been savaged from about the knees down; a couple were missing one or both legs. It took Glenn a moment to realize what he was seeing.
“Kyle,” Cynthia breathed.
Sure enough, dangling from one of the lines was his wife’s brother. The face that stared at them was barely recognizable, but there was still no mistaking the identity. Two bodies over, hands reaching for them, an
d easily the most animated of the zombies was what had once been Mel. Her arms would flail, causing the body to spin. This only seemed to infuriate the Mel-zombie. (Glenn wondered only briefly if zombies got angry.)
Cynthia walked up to her brother and stood below him for a moment. She whispered something that Glenn could not hear, then she turned to face her husband.
“We can’t leave them like this. I know it is not really them anymore, but still…” Cynthia’s voice became somewhat choked as the emotions overwhelmed her at the realization of the loss.
“I’ll go up on the roof,” Glenn offered.
He climbed up and moved to where the bodies were all hanging. He decided that he should just finish them all off since he was already there, and so he went along the row, plunging his blade down into the tops of each head.
He finished and was climbing to his feet when he caught a flash of light. It looked like it was one street over. Scurrying to the lip of the roof, he swung his legs over and hopped down.
Cynthia was still standing below the now defunct corpse of her brother. Glenn grabbed her hand and pulled her into the shadows beside the house. He quickly told her what he had seen, and that it looked like it was heading their direction.
While he hated the fact that his wife had actually seen what had become of her brother, he was glad that she had the closure she needed. Now they could get the hell out of this place. The sooner the better as far as he was concerned.
A beam of light suddenly appeared on the street in front of the house that they were hiding behind. It was sweeping back and forth, but did not seem to be actually looking for anything in particular.
After several agonizingly slow seconds, a figure walked past. It was a sentry, but it seemed as if there was only one. Glenn eyed the rifle slung so casually over the person’s shoulder. He was weighing the pros and cons of attacking the sentry when Cynthia dashed out from their hiding place.
“Looks like that decision is made,” he said as he took off after his wife.
