by Brown, TW
“Easy, mister,” the awkward voice warned.
A shadow fell over Juan as a coarse-spun shirt filled his entire field of vision. Juan looked up and could only see a dark outline against the light of the fire. There was a moment where he wanted to scream as he felt hands fumbling for him, but then he was suddenly free to move.
“Just take it easy, mister,” the voice whispered. “The girls don’t need to see you all frazzled. Took them a mighty long spell to get comfortable here.”
Juan tried to sit up and found that his head swam the moment he got less than halfway upright. He lay back down and took a deep breath to try and get his nerves settled. That was also just enough time for two small figures to climb up and on top of him. Both girls began talking a million miles an hour, not a single word managing to make sense as both talked over the other and neither relating a similar part of the story. Then he heard something that got his attention.
“Wait!” Juan groaned, getting his elbows underneath him and easing up just a bit. “What was that ‘bout the deaders?”
“The Grizzly Man came in and chopped them all down just in time to save Keith and the horses and Brianne. Then he talked with Keith and they said they would meet you in Ankledge,” Denita spoke with amazing surety.
“Actually, my name is Gerald, but your girls think it is fun to call me the Grizzly Man.” A hand that looked as if it could engulf both of Juan’s at once came forward and waited to be clasped in greeting. Juan shook the man’s hand and accepted the help to a completely upright position.
Juan’s eyes had finally adjusted to the light, and he took in the figure that spoke. His daughters had chosen well in their nickname. The man was taller than any human being that Juan had ever met in his life. He was wearing a heavy shirt that was partially unbuttoned to display more hair on the man’s chest than most men had on their heads, and then there was the beard. ZZ Top in their heyday could not compare to the thick and massive beard that climbed the man’s cheeks to the point of almost hiding his eyes, and hung down low enough to settle on the solid but ample belly.
“Juan Hoya,” he said absently as his eyes drifted around an open cabin that looked like the setting for a really cheesy horror movie.
The walls were adorned with the heads of bears, wildcats, moose, and a variety of other animals that all stared back with empty gazes. One shelf had a variety of smaller animals. This was where his gaze lingered. There looked to be a squirrel or some such creature on a tiny unicycle. He saw a skunk reading a newspaper while seated on a miniature toilet, and then there was an arctic fox wearing glasses and leaning against a light post checking his wristwatch.
The man noticed Juan’s gaze and made an embarrassed cough. He started for the shelf and then stopped as if realizing that he could not cover anything up as the cat was already out of the bag so to speak.
“Alone out in the Alaskan wilderness, you come up with some…interesting ways to bide your time.” The man reached over and adjusted the fox so that it was easier to see the fact that it appeared—above everything else already apparent—to be smiling down at a mouse that was standing beside him in some sort of jacket.
Juan made a grunt as his eyes now shifted to the arsenal of bladed and spiked weapons adorning one entire wall. One sword in particular looked to be taller than his daughters. The gleam from the firelight and the few hanging lanterns gave away that the edges were finely honed. Juan had no doubt that every single blade on that wall was sharpened to a razor’s edge.
“So, as your daughters already told you,” Gerald rumbled, “your friends went ahead to Anchorage.” He made a point to enunciate the word as he winked at Della and Denita.
“How long have I been out?” Juan asked cautiously.
“In and out for over a week,” the man replied.
“Grizzly Man had to clean your butt!” Della snickered, and then both she and Denita were giggling uncontrollably.
“You have been taking care of us this entire time?” Juan gave the man a curious look.
“He killed the deader wolves before they could eat you,” Denita said around the last of her giggles.
Everything came flooding back for Juan. The horse falling, the pain in his leg…and the wolves. No matter how many times he encountered those horrible things, he didn’t think there would ever come a time when he would not be totally creeped out by them.
“You took a nasty fall,” Gerald said with a nod. “All that noise distracted the wolves from their original target.”
“Huh?” Juan shook himself clear of the memory and focused on Gerald again. “What target was that?”
“Me,” the big man said with a sigh. “Damn things had me dead to rights. Already took down my bear. I’m gonna miss old Walt.”
Suddenly, the nickname was making a lot more sense.
***
Vix moved down the long walkway. Below her, a sea of undead faces looked up. That was not the scary part. The really scary part was how many of those heads did not even regard her passing. There were more zombies here than she had ever imagined could gather in one place.
It had taken twelve days since that mob was spotted for the first of them to begin arriving at their shore. No telling how many were swept away in the currents of the waters of the River Medway and sent out to the sea. It did not seem like nearly enough as the waterway was now a slurry of parts that had come free and no sign of an end to the mob that was still pouring in from the far shore across the river.
“Beacons alight!” somebody cried.
Vix paused and turned to her right. They were being surrounded. This was the third beacon towards the direction of Warden. Already, in the direction of Queenborough, the beacons were burning as far as her field of vision would allow her to see. They were basically being cut off. The one thing that they had going in their favor was the wall.
So many people had complained against the hard, backbreaking labor that had been required. She would do her best not to rub their noses in it later when this crisis was averted. It was far too early for her to gloat.
“It looks like the entire population of the bloody country is here,” a young man hissed as he moved past Vix on the walkway.
Vix looked out across the water at the horde that were following their brethren into the surf and across the waterway to what had once been their peaceful refuge. It still did not make a great deal of sense. In all the years since the first days of the zed rising, the abominations had not made it a point to just walk out into the water.
“Something caused this,” Vix grunted as she thrust down with her spear.
Her shoulders were starting to protest. Her shift was not even a half hour old, and already she was feeling the muscles start to ache. After three shifts of an hour each yesterday, and this just her first one today, she did not look forward to what she might feel like in a few days.
For the next thirty minutes, she put her body on auto-pilot and let her mind drift. She considered all of the choices made in the past decade and fixed on every single one that she now viewed as a mistake. The first one was actually in relation to the walkway and wall system that she was currently using.
The meetings had been worse than the old days of Parliament with all of the hissing and shouting that took place. The people were divided on three lines: first was the group that believed that only a section of the island needed to be walled off; second was the group that wanted the entire island walled off; and last were those who felt no need for a wall at all. The third group was the smallest, and quickly pounced upon by the other two as each side sought to secure the majority vote.
In the end, most of the island had been walled off. The wall proper was set inland about fifty to a hundred yards depending on location as some ground was more stable in certain places. However, Vix only brushed over that for a moment; currently, her biggest regret was the fact that she had allowed herself to settle in a location that had no ready escape.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and breathed a s
igh of relief that her shift was over. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, she headed down the stairs and made her way home. She wanted to just flop on her bed and sleep until the knock came at the door that would signal it was time to start over, but she could not relax until she’d washed up.
After dumping the basin out, Vix was finally prepared to get some rest. Her eyes had not closed for more than a minute or two when a knock came.
“Impossible,” she growled as she got up to answer.
“You need to come with me right away.” It was Chaaya. She was in full gear for a trip off the island. Two others were with her, both also dressed for the field.
“What is going—” she started, but was not given the chance to finish as a hand came up and covered her mouth.
“Not here, and not now!” a man hissed. Even in the hushed tone, she recognized the voice of Gordon Richardson.
Gordon was average when it came to height, and even by the new standard, he was a bit skinny for a bloke. However, it was his voice that made you remember Gordon from the first time you met; it was deeper than you would expect by a considerable amount. His fair hair and blue eyes were pleasant to look at and he always had a bit of a lopsided smile on his face.
The other individual was Marjorie Burns. Marjorie had been an up and coming snowboarder on the extreme sports circuit as well as an Olympic hopeful when the world ended. She had lost none of her attitude or daredevil outlook in all that time. If there was a trip to be made, she was always a volunteer, if not a leader. Marjorie was also a bit of a scrapper. Her round face was highlighted by a flat nose from the frequent scrapes the woman seemed to find; and she did not care if you were man or woman—in more ways than one. Lately, she and Chaaya had been an item.
“Suit up.” A satchel was thrust at Vix by Gordon. She opened it, not really surprised to discover the full field compliment inside.
After a brief internal debate, she shrugged and did as she was asked. Ten minutes later, she was moving along the wall, headed towards what had once been the Elmley National Nature Reserve. Now, it was pasture and open grazing land for sheep, cows, and chickens as well as a few horses.
It was an hour later when she noticed that none of the danger lanterns on the wall towers were lit in this area. That was a good thing, she decided as she walked in silence with the others. Twice she had tried to ask what was going on; both times she had been unceremoniously hushed and told that she would be told everything in due time.
They stopped suddenly and Vix heard a jingle of keys. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Nobody was allowed to have the keys with the exception of the roving patrol assigned to that area. The day that the zombies had been sighted across the channel, all of the keys had been collected and secured. There would be no excursions. This was one of what Vix called “The Horror Cinema Rules.” This rule in particular was enacted simply because somebody had mentioned that somebody always left a door unsecured in the movies, and that is how the monsters got in and wiped out the humans. In the event of an assault from outside the walls—living or undead—all keys were secured until the threat had been dealt with and declared null.
“Okay,” Vix snapped, folding her arms across her body and planting her feet in the ground, “I’m not budging until somebody tells me what the bloody hell this is all about!”
The nervous looks that passed between the trio did not go unnoticed; there could be no doubt that something was seriously wrong. At last, Chaaya gave Marjorie a nudge forward. “Tell her what you saw.”
“But we can’t be sure.” Marjorie shook her head. “I told you that I didn’t want to involve anybody else in the first place. You tell her!”
Chaaya looked over at Gordon who nodded his agreement. All this did was annoy Vix further. It was bad enough to be woken up after a shift on the wall. Then she had been basically shanghaied into coming on this secret little journey for who-knows-why.
“Just spit it out, or I am going back home.” Vix glared at Marjorie, her eyes flicking down to the woman’s clenched fists. “And don’t think you can threaten me, girl. You aren’t the only one who knows how to handle herself in a scrap.”
Chaaya began to explain. As she did, Vix found herself slowly shifting from annoyance, to disbelief…to all-out anger. The story she was hearing was madness; that is why she believed every word of it.
“And you say these people are over towards the area of High Halstow?” Vix finally asked when the tale was told.
“That is where I spotted their man. I followed him just north of there to a keep they built up in the woods of the old reserve,” Marjorie said in uncharacteristic nervousness.
“So why did you keep this to yourself until now?” Vix asked.
“I actually had forgotten about it until something from a few days earlier when I was out on that run popped into my head.”
Vix felt another chill course through her as Marjorie filled in that final detail. Without further argument, she followed the threesome through the door, making sure to give the iron-bound oak door a good tug to ensure that it was locked…just in case.
***
The trap door opened and there was a second of near silence before the rope came to its abrupt halt. The body at the end jerked a few times and was eventually still. There was another moment of silence, and then a few spontaneous cheers erupted from the gathered crowd.
Chad shuddered and turned to the man beside him. “You guys sure don’t waste any time.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Butch chuckled as he reached out to shake Chad’s hand. “Way I see it, the courts had it all screwed up back in the old days.”
Chad kept his mouth shut. He was not a gambling man, but if he were, he would be willing to bet he’d probably had more exposure to that system than this gentleman. Instead, he shook the man’s hand.
“I guess me and the ladies will be heading on our way.”
“You sure?” Butch asked, hitching his pants and turning his head to spit; a gesture that never ceased to repulse Chad.
“We haven’t had the best of luck with groups,” Chad replied with a shake of his head.
“Well, just remember, if you do well this season, you can always bring down any meat or hides and trade here. We like staying friendly with those of you that choose to rough it. Now, if’n you’ll excuse me, the corpse should start kicking pretty soon. We always like to take the heads prior to that unpleasantness.”
Chad gave a nod. He watched the man join a handful of others. Sure enough, they brought the body to the ground and severed the head. He imagined that it would be adorning that twisted version of an “unloving” totem pole that stood in the center of this small fortified town. Butch explained that it was a sort of deterrent to crime.
Chad shook his head and strolled up the narrow street to the inn where Caroline and Ronni would be waiting. He had actually been surprised when Ronni had declined to witness the hanging considering how vehement she had been in regards to this young woman and her so-called attempt on his life.
“Ready to go?” he asked, coming up behind the two women who were both flipping through a stack of various bolts of sturdy looking cloth.
“Like, an hour ago,” Ronni groaned. Caroline only nodded and gave the store one more appraising look before following the father and daughter out the door.
By the time the sun set, they were almost home. None of them cherished the idea of being out overnight as clouds had begun to roll in and threaten rain. The first rain drops began a short time after it was fully dark and made the ground all that much more treacherous.
Since Caroline was walking in the middle, she was the one carrying the lantern. It allowed everybody to see well enough to try and avoid twisting an ankle on an exposed root or large rock.
Each of them let out an audible sigh of relief when the cabin finally came into view. Chad set to getting a good fire going so that everybody could get warm and dry while Ronni and Caroline changed clothes and then pu
t out a dinner of dried meat and oat bread.
With the fire blazing, Chad joined the other two at the table once he’d changed clothes. A jar sat in the middle of the table, a thin wrapping of cloth around it preventing him from seeing the contents. Both women looked like they would burst at the seams if he didn’t hurry up and make mention of the jar; that is why he picked up a piece of meat and tore free a chunk of the bread.
“Oh, my God!” Ronni exclaimed, snatching the jar and untying the string that held the cloth in place.
“Problems?” Chad said around a mouthful of meat and bread.
“You are gonna regret taking that first bite,” Caroline said with a mysterious smirk.
“Honey!” Ronni exclaimed, holding up the jar so that the amber contents could catch the light of the fire and take on a yellow-orange glow. “We traded for it back while you were out watching that hanging.”
Chad almost wanted to spit out the mouthful of food that he was chewing so that he could spread a dollop of the sweet nectar on it. He refrained and was content to smear some on the rest of his chunk of bread. The remainder of the evening meal was a chorus of “mmms” and “yums” from each of them.
At last, Ronni said goodnight and gave her dad a hug before climbing up to the loft. Caroline and Chad sat in silence for a while before Caroline finally broke it.
“So why exactly did they hang the girl first?”
“According to Butch, they do it more as a way for people to really witness the punishment. Also, it is more of that deterrent system they seem so fond of using. Folks know that they will be executed in this way and then there is the whole creepy totem pole thing,” Chad explained.
“And they’ve been doing this for how many years but people apparently still commit crimes under the death penalty umbrella?” Caroline quipped.
“I didn’t want to point out the obvious,” Chad said with a shrug.
They were quiet again for a few minutes. This time, it was Chad who broke the peace.
