by T. W. Brown
They’d hunted and killed every zombie they could find. There were still a few stragglers, but most had been taken care of. She’d found Adaire. It had been a hollow victory. He’d shown no sign of recognition—much less fear—as she aimed the pistol at his blank, dead face. In the end, she’d pulled the trigger. Now, the body was burning in one of the handful of piles they’d stacked and set ablaze.
Those zombie pyres served two purposes. Besides the obvious, they were also going to hopefully attract survivors or rescuers. They’d failed.
Up the stairs and into the gloomy cabana Jenifer stomped. She grabbed or shouldered everything she could. Best guess, she could do it in three trips.
It was on her way back to the boat during the second run as she came running down the stairs when one of the undiscovered stragglers grabbed her by the ankle. She tumbled, bags flew, and Jenifer landed face down on the ground. The scream as teeth dug into her calf was muffled by the sand. She struggled and kicked free. Drawing her large knife, she plunged the blade into the thing’s temple.
She sat up, turning her leg to see the bite. A near perfect set of teethmarks stood out, even on her well-tanned skin. Jenifer got up, testing the ankle. There was a slight throbbing pain. She felt a sudden chill which made her shiver.
Damn. Jenifer returned back up the stairs. She knew very well what this meant. She considered the gun she had in the shoulder holster. In that moment, she ceased being the tough, to-hell-with-the-world warrior that stalked the island, killing every zombie with cold callousness. In that moment, she was once again Jenifer Slaten, an eighteen-year-old girl.
Scared.
Alone.
Dying.
She rummaged through one of her bags and found her favorite pair of skinny-jeans. After changing, she resumed carrying the rest of their stuff down to the dock where their sail boat rocked gently.
Nobody commented on her change of clothes. Not even that raging queen, Eric. By the time the gear was loaded, and Graham double- and triple-checked everything, Jenifer began tasting something foul in the back of her throat. She couldn’t have described the taste, other than to say it was like infection …disease…sickness…death.
By noon they were underway. The sailboat glided from the bay and out into the open water of the Carribean Sea. They had a radio which Gideon sat at calling out to anybody, but receiving no reply.
Jenifer stood at the foremost point for a while. She tried to enjoy the sea breeze, but all she could smell was death. That stench filled her nostrils and refused to let her enjoy one final breath of clean, fresh air. With a sigh, she slumped her shoulders, dropped her head, and made her way below. She went into her cabin, closed the door, and began to cry. She looked into the mirror and gasped. Her eyes were…different. Bloodshot with blackness.
She walked over to her bunk and sat down. Again she considered her gun, now hanging from a hook on her door. Maybe later, she thought and laid down. Just now, she didn’t feel so good. Pulling her blanket up to her chin, Jenifer closed her eyes. Sweat trickled down her face and, for a while, she shivered. Her breathing became short panting gasps. Then …finally…nothing.
***
Jenifer’s eyes opened.
18
Geeks Plus One
“I’m begging you,” the girl cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please let me go before he comes back.”
Mike knelt beside the girl, producing a long knife. The girl struggled against her bonds, her eyes grew wide at the sight of the blade.
“I’m going to cut you loose,” Mike’s voice was soft and quiet, “that’s all. But I need you to promise that you won’t run or do anything crazy.
“I have to get out of here,” the girl continued to cry.
“He won’t be coming back down.” Kevin turned away from the girl and Mike. Partially to keep an eye on the dozen schoolgirl-aged zombies secured around the room. But also, to partially keep Mike from seeing the look of dread in his eyes. What had he done?
“We’ve got him tied up real good upstairs,” Mike said as he leaned forward and cut away the first belt that held her legs secure. He would free her hands last in hopes that, as he freed her, she would settle down and not run.
“You got Mister Abernathy?” The girl’s voice was still hoarse, but there was no missing the sound of cautious hope it held.
“Tied to a chair in an office upstairs,” Mike repeated, continuing to work on the bonds. The girl settled down.
“How long have you been here?” Kevin asked after a couple of deep breaths and a moment to ensure he had his composure.
“Forever.” The girl’s voice grew far away sounding. “Since about two weeks after this started.”
Kevin did the math. She’d been here about seven weeks. Give or take a couple. He’d lost track somewhere along the way.
“Sara and I had run out of food and were searching when we ran into Mister Abernathy. We were so relieved.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “He told us that he’d secured the school and that a bunch of our friends were already there.”
“When we got here, he told us that the only way in was through the principal’s office window. He climbed up and in, then had Sara tie a rope around her waist so he could help her. I came second. As I reached the windowsill, I noticed Sara out cold on the floor. Before I could say or do anything, he jabbed a needle in my arm. I woke up in this room. He’d taken all my clothes, and he had Sara on the table…” Her voice faded, tears filled her eyes.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Mike said. He glanced over his shoulder at Kevin who had his back turned to them. Something in the slouched over way Kevin was standing made him pause. He took in the other girls in the room. It was so NOT gonna be okay.
“Take her upstairs.” Kevin suddenly spun around. There was a peculiar look in his eyes.
“To the office?” Mike stepped back from the girl after cutting the last of her bonds.
“No. Take…” Kevin’s eyes drifted to the girl’s. “What’s your name?”
“Heather.” She rubbed her wrists, trying to see only the two men before her and not the girls—her friends—around the room.
“Heather, I’m Kevin, and the tall beanpole of a man with the big knife is Mike. We’re looking to supply up, and then we have an errand to run. You’re welcome to tag along, or you can go do whatever…your choice.”
“Errand?” Mike looked surprised.
“With what you’ve just seen Heather put through, can you even consider not trying to help Angela and the girls?”
“I told ya I’m all for checkin’ things out, but not so much on the suicide run.” Mike wondered if he was sounding like a panzy in front of the new addition to their group.
“I’m not talking about pullin’ a Rambo,” Kevin said. “But we have to exhaust any possibility of rescuing them.”
“I’m staying with you two,” Heather’s voice trembled, and it almost sounded like more of a request than a statement.
“Then you’ll have to listen carefully, do what we say when we say it, and, at least for a while until we’re back on the road, not argue.” Kevin placed both hands on Heather’s shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes. “I know you’ve been through some bad sh—, errr…stuff. And I won’t promise things are gonna be great. But you’re safe from me and Mike.”
Mike listened as Kevin spoke. He heard that natural sound of calm authority in it. Sure, he thought, Kevin made some gaffs, but which of them hadn’t? Nobody had objected to making a run at Pittsburg. They’d all thought it would be a “poetic” part of the adventure. It had been Darrin’s insistence that he knew where The Mall was located that had led them off the freeway and into the swarms of zombies. And Cary, well, other than teasing everybody and acting the clown, he’d not really done much at all in any aspect of the planning or actual supply. Hell, the U-Haul was the first vehicle Cary had ever “owned” such as it was.
Sure, Kevin’s bitch-fit at the fill-up had been stupid, but it wasn’
t his fault Cary’d been bitten. Why hadn’t he been wearing his leather gloves with the mesh inserts that Kevin made for everyone, and insisted that they all wear during any excursions. Then, when it came to the tough choice, it had been Kevin who put Cary down—
Mike glanced down at the bite on the girl’s leg. He looked up at Kevin. He saw that look again on Kevin’s face that he hadn’t been able to identify until now. Mike’s and Kevin’s eyes met.
“You can’t think that,” Mike said.
Heather had been talking, and suddenly stopped, realizing that she was suddenly non-existant to the two men she stood between. They both had the saddest expressions she’d ever seen.
“How can I not?” Kevin’s voice was barely a whisper.
“We couldn’t possibly have known. And this,” Mike gestured to Heather, “could be a fluke.”
“In any case,” Kevin’s voice grew stronger and more resolved, “I’m not leaving anybody behind anymore.”
“But Shaw and his men—” Mike began.
“Are big, dumb animals,” Kevin cut him off. “Just like that Meyers kid back in high school. A dumb jock that had no muscle from the neck up. We always wanted to do that piece of shit in, and knew that most of our ideas woulda landed us in juvie hall. Well…rules are out the window.”
“You have a plan?” Mike asked.
“Not yet,” Kevin replied. “Up to this point I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off. But, given time, I bet we could think of something that will take care of Shaw and his men…and rescue Angela, Ruth, Shari, and Erin.”
“Excuse me,” Heather finally built up the nerve to speak. “Can we get out of this room? I can’t look at my friends like that anymore.”
“Jeez,” Mike literally slapped his forehead, “I’m so sorry, Heather.”
Kevin led the way and took them to the hall. “Take her to the top floor and wait for me.”
For a moment, Mike considered protesting. He knew what Kevin had in mind. At least he thought he did. Part of him wanted to be involved. But deep down, an even bigger part didn’t. This was going to be unpleasant, and there was plenty of time in the future for him to do things that would tug at his conscience.
They climbed the stairs, emerging into the mostly sunlit corridor. Kevin and Mike traded a look, then, Mike led Heather up the stairs that would likely take them to classrooms, and hopefully some supplies.
They reached the second floor, layers of undisturbed dust in either direction indicated there would be nothing found here. Countinuing up, Mike realized that he no longer smelled the sourness of death and rot. Instead, it was…
“Pine-Sol,” Heather inhaled deeply. “I never thought that could smell so good.”
“Crazy how the little things can be so huge.” Mike joined her in a few deep, cleansing breaths.
The floor was clear, and all the doors were open to the classrooms. Directly across from them was a room full of cardboard boxes. Mike led the way. Together, he and Heather started peeking in or opening tops to discover packaged foods, along with all manner of clothing—skewed towards the more promiscuous fashions that were once so popular on the teen-oriented television and music celebrities—as well as a box that Mike took pains to ensure Heather wouldn’t see. A box of assorted sexual lubricants.
A quick walk up and down the hallway revealed that all but one of the rooms were similarly full. The one that was not full of boxes was obviously Mister Abernathy’s sleeping quarters. There was an unpleasant smell not quite maskable by the pine-scented cleaning products that had been used with such apparent vigor. Mike closed that door and hung a towel from a pair of small hooks that were attached just above the window. As he was finishing, a scream echoed through the building from below.
***
Kevin walked into the office without hesitation. He slapped the face of Mister Abernathy repeatedly until the man’s eyes opened and his muffled cries came through the windbreaker sleeve that had been used to gag him.
“You are one sick fucker.” Kevin sat on the edge of the large desk and folded his arms across his chest.
Abernathy’s eyes, which were squeezed shut in pain, flew open. He tried desperately to speak through the gag, but Kevin wasn’t ready to hear him talk just yet.
“Found your little stash of zombie sex-slaves,” Kevin spat. “I’m not sure if it is just the idea that you were having sex with zombie girls or, if it’s that you chose underage girls exclusively.”
Abernathy made more muffled pleas, but Kevin didn’t care. “Were you a sick freakin’ pedophile before, who just hadn’t been caught yet? Or is this a crime of opportunity? I mean…I’m guessing that, since the girls knew you, you were a teacher here. So…did you walk the halls doing your best to hide your hard-on while you gawked? Somebody doesn’t just magically become a sick piece of shit like you overnight. Do they?”
More muffled words and whimpers.
“But,” Kevin stood up and moved behind Mister Abernathy and began pushing the chair out of the office and to the stairs, “I must say that I owe you in a way. See, we found poor Heather in your little room. Seems she was bitten. And I bet you were surprised when she didn’t turn into one of those things. So, did that save her? I mean, can you still get it up if they’re breathin’?”
They reached the stairs. Kevin briefly considered pushing the chair and letting the man get busted up good and proper. Only, he didn’t want to risk the chance the bastard’s neck would break. Turning the chair around and tipping it back, he worked his way down the stairs to the dark hallway.
“I really would’ve never believed in just how sick a person could be till you.” Kevin had to fight his impulse to scream, to just let the chair fall. “I mean, I just lost a few friends to some wannabe mercenaries. And while I was concerned for their well-being…I wasn’t truly terrified. Until now anyways. So,” he spun the chair around to face him, and even in the darkness, he could see the fear in Abernathy’s eyes, “if I do manage to save my friends…they’ll sorta owe it to you in a sick way.”
Kevin pushed the chair to the room and situated it in the doorway. He leaned down and whispered in the man’s ear, “I’d like you to know that you will rot in this chair. I’m going to let one of those poor creatures take a few more good bites out of you before I put them all out of their misery. Then, I’m gonna shove you in that room and let you die tied to this chair and come back as one of those things. And you’ll never be able to feed. I don’t have any idea if those things feel pain or hunger. But I’ll sleep good thinking that they do, and knowing that you’ll feel that forever with no way to satisfy it.”
Kevin saw something flash in the man’s eyes for a second. Something that was stronger than the fear. No way, he thought. Kevin ripped the man’s shirt off and stood up, stunned.
“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me!” Kevin felt sick.
Finding Heather had sent his beliefs spiraling. One person immune to the bite was a terrible, wonderful thing. The possibility that a bite was not a one hundred-percent guarantee of death and undeath was amazing. But Cary…that was terrible. Had he awoke to find himself alone and defenseless? What sort of hellish nightmare had his inability to pull the trigger condemned Cary to? It would have been better to have killed him and discovered the possiblility of immunity than to have left him alive and alone, surrounded by zombies in a disabled car.
The bite scar on Abernathy’s shoulder was bright pink. Two people immune in such a small town? Of course the odds were slim, but who knew what factors led to immunity. There were certainly enough zombies walking about to remind Kevin that this was much more of a fluke than the norm. Add in that many of the attacks were viscious enough to be fatal in and of themselves.
“Well then,” Kevin leaned down into the man’s profusely sweating face, “let’s test another theory.”
Kevin looked around the room at the girls. Three were collared and kept in place by a long lead that was attached to an eyebolt in the wall. Taking a
deep breath, he drew his long blade and walked up to the first girl tied into a desk. He drove the blade into the temple and then, carefully and methodically went around the room dispatching all but those three.
Next, he moved all the ones that he’d finished off over to one corner. He looked at the three that were collared. Their eyes followed him during his task. They had stopped trying to get at him at some point. Now, all three were almost with their back to the wall.
“Well,” Kevin stood with his hands on his hips, looking from one girl to the other, “perhaps there is at least a minimal understanding. Like the ability to comprehend the most basic aspect of being endangered. So let’s see what happens here.”
Kevin walked to the doorway and grabbed the chair by the armrest and pulled it into the room. He heard movement instantly and spun around to insure he wasn’t within reach. Looking at each of the three zombies, he noticed immediately that they were no longer paying him any attention. Instead, they were fixated on the man in the chair.
“Looks like some friends of yours would like to say hello.” Kevin watched how all three came for the terrified man tied to the chair.
Kevin pushed the chair back out of the room. He turned and watched for the reaction of the schoolgirl-zombies. They just stopped. It was like a switch. All three went to standing, swaying in place, or shambling back a few steps to ease the tension on their leads.
“Okay, one more test,” Kevin whispered to Abernathy, “then I’ll be done here.”
He walked into the room. Would they still equate him with danger? Their heads turned his direction almost in unison. Each began moving towards him, arms out. “Kinda like goldfish,” Kevin mumbled. Then, over his shoulder he called, “But they sure have you imprinted in their minds, because, even though they want to get at me, it’s not nearly as spirited as when I drag your ass in here.”
