“Answer him, jerk!”
I closed my eyes and braced for a fist in my face. It was slow to come, and I felt Ford’s body kneel close to mine. She pressed her lips to my ear and turned my face to hers.
“It is interesting. Like I said, there are so many variables to study. Your girls will produce weapons that can be used for even more covert espionage. I mean, think of the possibilities. Zombies in plain sight? It’ll prove most useful for smaller scale operations.”
Ford was helped back to her feet. She steadied herself in between two of her guards and gave me a wicked smile.
“What’s next, ma’am?” one of the guards asked.
“I promised these boys a reunion with one of their fallen comrades.”
My insides turned to ice.
“No,” I weakly protested. “You don’t… you can’t …”
Tom was led into the room. He was manacled and muzzled. I could just make out what used to be his eyes through the metal mask. For a split second, I thought that he got who I was because he stopped struggling at the sight. Ford limped over to him and snapped her fingers.
“Heel.”
He obeyed like the dumbest dog, and I hated Ford all over again for what she had done to him. Ford fingered what looked like a handle that reached down from the top of his steel cap to the base of his neck.
“Cage?”
It took Tom a second, but then he recognized the word and put up a new fight.
“Heel.”
And he was docile again.
She pointed a bony finger at Neal and me.
“Them.”
Tom went mad again, but it didn’t put Ford off her game plan. She signaled to one of her guards. He stepped forward and handed her a collar. It made sense seeing that he was reduced to her rabid pet. Ford fastened the collar around his neck and followed with some sort of silver keypad. Ford punched in what might have been a combination of some kind, but when the guard handed her what looked like the remote control that Clay had possessed, I knew that she had something else in mind.
“What… what are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m leaving, Sam. I’m leaving you to sit like a good boy and really think about what you’ve done. Your buddy Tom here is going to be given the gift of freedom in precisely three minutes. And I think he’s pretty cross with you.”
It wasn’t a combination. It was a timer.
“So… so once you go…”
“I’m setting him loose. I’m setting him on you. I bet he has several things that he’s just dying to get off his chest.”
She proceeded to attach a similar device to Tom’s ankle.
“Once he’s had his fun, he’ll lock you two in here. Then you guys can have it. From what I’ve seen so far, I’m sure you’d rather have some alone time with your female companions. But that ain’t gonna happen. See, Tom has a date with the ladies.”
The Tom that I knew all too well could be rash when he wasn’t shackled and infected. The zombie blood that whatever was left of his heart pumped meant bad things for Neal and me.
Worse things for Lana and Morgan.
“See you in another life, Sam.”
Neal was too weak to stand, but he still managed to cry out.
“Please. Please don’t do this. It’s not right. You have to know that it’s not right.”
His common sense was stopped with another fist in his face. But Neal kept going.
“Alright, alright. Fine. Let him… we can pay for the mistake.”
“Prof!”
“Just let the girls go. Please. You can’t do this to them.”
“I can and I want to.”
She patted Tom’s head and shot us one last smirk.
“Have fun, boys.”
The guards followed her from the basement, and the door was bolted again, this time from the other side. Tom let out one continuous grunt that grew in intensity as the guards boots faded from my ears. When Ford flipped the switch, all bets would be off. We had to do something.
And we only had three minutes.
“Prof? What are we gonna do?”
“How should I know?”
“You’re supposed to be the smart one!”
“Pretty soon we’ll both be the dead ones.”
“No. We’ll be the zombie ones.”
Like Tom after Leslie, we were doomed to come back to life. I saw Neal and me locked in some endless battle where we kept killing each other again and again. What was worse? An eternity locked in battle or having to spend it in a room full of cleaning supplies?
I suddenly remembered the screwdriver. I shifted onto my side and rolled towards the tool. I worked the sharp point against the plastic cuffs. I could feel blade slicing into the cuffs along with my palm, and the blood that started to come out in bursts made it harder to get them off my wrists. I was trying to count the seconds I had left in my head, but I hadn’t started from the second Ford left, so I had no idea how off I was when---
The cuffs came off!
A rush of adrenaline got me back on my feet. I smiled at Neal and started to work on his bindings when a beeping sound hit the air. I watched as the metal fell from his face. Tom was barely recognizable, beyond gray, and his eyes were popping like two blue marbles from their sockets.
“Kid?”
I tried to speak when Tom let out a roar and lunged towards us.
***
With my bloodied hands, I shoved Neal to the other side of the basement. Then I shot as far away from Tom as I could get and kept a tight grip on the screwdriver. Tom stood in the space between us looking totally mixed up. The both of us were his for the taking, but it was like he couldn’t figure out who he wanted to get his teeth around first. Part of me thought I should chalk this up to how young a zombie he was. Or maybe he kind of remembered who I had been and in some ways still was to him. I didn’t care which was true and just knew that I had to use his moment of indecision to our advantage.
First things first. The best way to stay alive was to stay apart.
“Prof! Don’t move!”
Neal’s hands were still bound behind his back, and he stopped trying to break free of the cuffs and took my order literally. Okay. Good. So we were on the same page.
Now where to go from here?
“Kid?”
When Neal spoke, he played the situation like a ventriloquist and hardly moved his mouth.
“Yeah?”
“Talking allowed?”
Now he barely blinked, and it was like his words were coming from a corpse. That was a little too close to a reality I wanted us to avoid. I nodded to show him that we were still in the game. Minimal movement was okay. For now at least.
“Sure.”
Neal sighed and slouched deeper into the wall. Zombie Tom sensed the change in his position and crooked his head towards the teacher. It was then that I noticed the back of his neck. It bore what was probably going to be a permanent brand of interlocking lines. He had to have gotten the tattoo by banging his like a thousand times against the walls of the crate. I knew he couldn’t answer me, and he probably wouldn’t even if he had the ability, but I was desperate to know just what had crossed his mind when we left him behind bars. Angry and hungry? Sure. Who wouldn’t be, and who knew how long he had to wait for recuse in the form of Ford and her minions. But what about sad and what about scared? What about abandoned and hopeless? And when Ford’s people finally chanced upon him, was there a second when he was grateful because someone was finally going to free him, give him something to eat? Give him a chance for revenge? Ford was obviously using the fact that we’d locked him up in the first place to get his motor running, and I wondered if I could make use of the same information.
“Tom?”
He whipped his head back to where I stood, and I was almost positive that he recognized his name. I quickly stuffed the screwdriver in my pocket and raised my hands. He needed to think that I wasn’t armed, but he didn’t need to know that I’d shove the Phillips
into his eye if I had to.
“Tom?”
He cocked the gray misshapen mass that used to be his head to the side and stared at me long and hard. Now I got the impression that he was recognizing me along with his name. My mind started to fill with all the things I could say to bring him back to the guy he was before he made the mistake of trying to draw Leslie out of her own zombie state with a crummy stuffed animal. It hadn’t worked, and now I was looking for another JoJo to keep my best friend from ripping my head off my neck with the force of a single bite. I shook the idea away. The past would be no help or comfort to him now. Leslie didn’t want to be reminded of all she had been and would never be again, and I decided to take a chance on where things stood and where they could go. If I was being honest, I was just trying to get us up and out. With each minute that ticked away, the distance between us and Lana and Morgan grew wider. We had to find them before Ford put her horrible plans into motion.
“Tom, listen to---”
The third word was just out of my mouth when Tom reached forward and swathed a hand of oozing fingers around my throat. Speaking seemed out of the question, and even thinking was hard as he twisted my body to the ground and bared his brown fangs. He drew back, took in a gulp of air that came out in a rancid hiss, and got ready to take a chunk out of my shoulder. I struggled to get away, but Tom was too strong. I could feel the screwdriver digging into my thigh. It might as well have been on the other side of the world. As he moved closer to me, a part of me already felt turned, and I was terrified by what that meant. I doubted that I’d have the luck to pull the transformation off with Lana’s grace and skill. No. No I was going to be like my good buddy here and go the way of a screaming, hungry, hunted animal.
I should have died a long time ago. I should have died when I was born with an abnormal brain. I should have died in the car wreck that claimed my favorite cousin when we were both six and his inexperienced big sister took the wheel too soon after passing her road test. I should have been blown up and burned with Clay.
But I couldn’t die now with so much left to do.
Fighting for one more chance to get it right, I lifted my legs and got them around Tom’s shoulders. Then I started kicking both sides of his skull. The impact of my feet stunned him, and every time he moved to bite the offending ankle, I just alternated for the other foot and left him gnawing on dead air. Frustrated by his failure to make contact with skin, he finally let out an angry howl as he pushed my legs away and brought his fists down on my belly. In that instant, I felt like I’d never be able to draw any breath ever again. Lacking the strength to even attempt to crawl away, I was at least able to blink, and I saw him falling on top of me. The rot from his brown breath swirled just under my nostrils, and his teeth were primed to tear into my neck when I saw another pair of hands curl around Tom’s shoulders and shove him away from the space just above me. I heard Tom smash into what had to be cleaning supplies hidden in shadows. The clanging was coupled with the aroma of pine and chemicals, and there was something damp against my knees as I felt someone dragging me. I was pretty sure that my savior had to be Neal even before he had me back on my feet. Dazed as I still was, Neal gave my face a quick whack. His wrists were still encased in plastic. From what I could make out, he somehow summoned the power to pull his hands apart. While he wasn’t entirely free, at least he could use them in an effort to save me and search for the others.
But first we had to get out.
“Kid? You with me?”
I nodded as Neal searched for a weapon. He settled on the stool vacated by Ford and brought the thing crashing down on the floor. He took the leg that had left the seat in the sharpest point and used the seat like a shield as he handed me one of the other legs. Tom was trying to wipe the chemicals away from his face, but as he kept screaming, it was apparent that he was only pressing the caustic liquid deeper into his eyes. I stopped a few feet away from his as Neal went to work on the door. I thought of gathering up the bottles that hadn’t tipped over or were at least half empty if Neal and I were able to escape. Maybe we could use them to blind the other zombies we were bound to encounter, and---
I was pretty sure that Tom could no longer see me, but he had no trouble sensing my location and grabbing me by the ankles. I lost my footing and crashed into Neal. He kept me from falling and brought his new shield down on Tom’s head. My best friend turned zombie finally got his teeth around something, and he bit down on the broken wood. I saw a series of splinters explode into his gray lips and chin. I had to feel bad for the guy. In between suds and wood and his girlfriend making him a monster, this was not his day.
I had to feel bad for the guy.
Neal kept banging against the door with the stick and the shield. When it seemed like he was getting nowhere with that tactic, he just threw his entire body into it. I was pretty sure that he’d dislocate a shoulder at this rate.
“Whoa, Prof! Ease up.”
I pulled Neal away from the door, and we both looked back to see Tom trying to wipe the flecks of wood from his mouth.
“What’s wrong with you?” Neal asked. “We need to get away. Now! While he’s vulnerable. While---”
I held up one hand and muttered for him to keep it down as I held up the broken piece of stool reincarnated as my new bat. Tom was crawling through the chemicals, unseeing and unable to do more but give off tiny grunts.
“Tom. Dude?”
He managed to follow the sound of my voice, and I raised the new bat over my head. This was the bottom of the ninth with no men on and two strikes in the bag. This was a Hail Mary play. This was miracle time.
And best friend or stranger or zombie who was both rolled into one, I’d give this one more shot. If I failed, I resolved to smash his head until I was covered in the slimy green that served as his blood. Killing him might not be a possibility, but I could hit him and keep hitting him. Hopefully it would give Neal the time thatheneeded to open the door.
But first…
“Tom? I’m sorry.”
Neal nearly dropped his weapons, and I saw the shock all over his face.
“What are you---?”
“It’s a hunch, Prof.”
“We don’t have time ---”
“Tom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I locked you up. I’m sorry I left you there. I was wrong. You deserved better.”
Neal was too stunned to speak, but he was already taking the opportunity of the heavy moment hanging between Tom and me to sneak back towards the door. This time he didn’t pound or risk grave bodily injury in an effort to get us free. He just spied and seized a stray nail and went to work on the lock. There’d still be boards to contend with if he got it open, but one step at a time.
And one hurdle.
“Tom, I’m sorry.”
I was counting on him remembering who I was right along with the horrible thing I’d done. Let him know that I was the one, or at least one of the ones, who left him friendless and caged. He could hate me for it for however long a zombie might live. Was it forever? Was he now immortal? In that second I thought that he and the others would go on as long as there was warm flesh on which to feast. But if and when it ran out… well maybe they’d make like cannibals, zombie variety, and start going to town on each other. Then I remembered something about vampires drinking the blood of humans already dead, and the idea that blood which no longer pumped through veins and simply sloshed about like murky dishwater if the body happened to be moved was like poison, and I imagined the same principle applying to zombies with no other resort than snacking on the rotting gray of their creatures in arms when they really needed the healthy pink meat of actual people to sustain their new lives.
“Saaaammmm.”
I shuddered at the sound of my name. It was like Tom was gagged and underwater, but it was something to go on. If he knew me, if he could remember me, even the very bad thing there was no washing away, then…
“Kid!”
My hope for some kind of a truce went the w
ay of air from a body when faced with a cold winter night. Tom was charging towards me again, and I heard Neal scream out as I did what I had to. In one quick, brutal movement, my new bat came down on his gray melon. I was doing my best to hurt him even as I felt his arms surrounding my body. Visions of leaving the floor, flying through the air to the other side of the room, and crashing to a heap only to have my bones picked clean were replaced by a sensation. Neal was calling out for me to hit him again, but I let the new bat fall to my side as I realized Tom was not trying to squeeze me into as lifeless a mass as he had become. In truth, he was hugging, holding, me. When I figured it out, I reciprocated and eased him to the ground. Neal moved away from the door and looked at me like I’d lost my mind as he circled us where we sat. I could feel Tom shaking in my grasp, and whether it was his breath or the chemicals or some combination of the two, he reeked, but I held him close and kept offering apologies for everything I’d ever done.
“Kid, what are you trying to do?”
A whiff of Tom hit me in the face as I tried to speak, but I breathed through the rank and spit my words out.
“I’m like trying to connect to him, Prof.”
“Connect ? Give him a little more room and his teeth will be in your ear. Then you’ll be connected.”
“No. That woman, Ford, the psycho witch, she played on his memories of who we are and what we did. She got him riled up. So why can’t I use that to calm him down?”
Tom groaned, and I guided him to a place where his head was lolling on an upside down bucket. My clothes smelled awful, and I fought the urge to strip. But I got that the damp chill of the basement would be worse than zombie odor. I was back on my feet, brushed myself off, and stood over him. He started to rub his eyes again. He cried out in the face of new burns, and I pulled his hands away from his face.
“Don’t, Tom. Just leave it alone.”
He turned his head from side to side and followed the sound of my voice along with my scent mingling with his. Neal already had the discarded muzzle in his hands, and I knew he was thinking of using it again now that we had him kind of subdued.
“Prof, no.”
Zombie University (The Complete Series): How I Survived the Zombie Apocalypse Page 14
