by Paul Seiple
"You mean stalking me," Melanie said.
Wayne smiled. "A good predator always keeps an eye on its prey."
"Yeah, well, at some point, the predator becomes the prey," Melanie said.
"We all have our place in this world. But, as I was saying, something funny happened. I found myself liking you. Imagine that, me liking the woman who murdered my brother. I can see why Dean was smitten with you."
"Lucky me. I'm popular with the psychos," Melanie said.
"Oh, was Roger a psycho?" Wayne asked.
"No, Roger was pure. Something this world needs more of if it's going to survive. And he wasn't my boyfriend. You murdered a good man."
"Looks like we have something in common, then," Wayne said.
Melanie laughed. "Dean had no redeeming qualities."
"I'm not going to argue with you about my brother. Honestly, now that time has passed, I can't blame you. You did what you had to, to survive," Wayne said.
"Great. Since you're not going to kill me, can I go now?"
Wayne smiled. "No."
Melanie curbed a sarcastic comeback. There was no escape. Every way in to the old carnival was probably guarded. She was at Wayne's mercy and no number of witty retorts would change that. An awkward silence filled the room as Wayne and Melanie stared eye-to-eye. I can't blink first, Melanie thought as her eyes teared.
Wayne turned away and stood again with his back to Melanie. "I didn't say that I wasn't going to kill you. You assume that I am not."
"Killing for revenge goes against your sermon tonight during that spectacle," Melanie said.
Wayne faced her. "That was Maestro. Wayne has a completely different take on this world."
"Oh, so Maestro is bullshit schtick," Melanie said.
"Maestro is the leader those people need. Wayne is who I am."
"It's really weird to refer to yourself in third person," Melanie said.
Wayne flashed a grin. "Melanie Carpenter, you're definitely a firecracker. Now, tell me, if Roger wasn't your partner, who is? And how many people are going to come looking for you?"
"Wayne seems a little nervous," Melanie said. "Why don't you put that mask back on and summon Maestro. At least he seems to have a pair of balls."
"Try as you may, but you're not getting under my skin," Wayne said. "As far as killing you..." He paused. "... I haven't made my mind up yet. For now, I'll have Finn take you back to your room."
"You mean cell."
"We can't seem to agree on anything, Melanie. I'll have extra bedding brought to you," Wayne said.
"How gentlemanly of you."
"It doesn't have to be this way," Wayne said.
"It didn't have to be this way. You didn't have to kidnap me. You didn't have to murder my friend in front of me. If you think I'll worship you like those sheep out there, you're deadly mistaken." Melanie emphasized “deadly.”
"Threats are not necessary. Nor or they appreciated," Wayne said before lowering the gas mask over his face. He banged on the door for Finn to take Melanie away.
Twenty-Three
He crouched to a crawl before sliding underneath a circus tent. He hid behind the remains of what used to be a teacup ride waiting for a small group of people to pass. They were eating popcorn, laughing, and showing no signs of distress. He began to doubt the screams had come from the carnival. A small part of him doubted the screams ever existed. Maybe it was the hunger and dehydration causing him to hallucinate. It wouldn't be the first time he saw or heard something that wasn't there. The hallucinations were becoming more frequent the longer he went without real food.
He stood after the group was out of sight. He placed his forearm against a wooden pole until the dizziness wore off. It was another side-effect of hunger. His mouth watered as he thought about the popcorn. Popcorn with extra butter, he thought. His thoughts wandered to how did they even have popcorn in the apocalypse. Voices brought him back to reality. He ducked behind one of the teacups.
"You can take her back to the cells."
"Yes, sir."
"And make sure she gets extra blankets."
He peeked around the corner of the ride. The men stood in front of the entrance to a haunted house ride. One was tall and wore a gas mask. The other was much shorter and gauging by his muscles, he had no problem finding protein.
"You shouldn't be here."
The woman's voice came from behind. He froze in a crouching stance. He didn't turn around.
"You're not hiding too well. If he catches you, he will kill you."
He shuffled his feet and started to move.
"Stay still or they will see you. Are you here for Melanie?"
"No. I heard screaming. I thought someone was in danger," he said.
"Your instincts were right. Someone is in danger," the woman said.
"I'll help in any way I can," he said.
"If I take you to her, will you get Melanie to safety?" the woman asked.
"What is this place?" he asked.
"It's a mistake. She is in real danger. Will you save her?"
"I'll do my best."
"Slowly turn and face me," the woman said.
A short, older woman with grayish hair stood above him. She looked more like a grandmother than a threat. He eased back on his butt, releasing some tension in his calves from crouching.
"The tall one is Wayne. He leads this place. We need to wait until he is gone. The shorter one, Finn, will take Melanie back to the cells. I'll tell Finn I need to check on her wound. While I'm talking to him, inject this into his neck."
He took a syringe from the woman.
"Don't worry. It won't kill him. He'll go to sleep."
"How am I going to get her out of here?" he asked.
"How tall are you?" the woman asked
"Six-two," he said.
"You weigh about one forty?"
"On a good day," he said.
"I cut a hole in the fence behind those ride parts over there. You should fit. The cells are to the left of the parts. You cannot waste time. Get her and get out of here. There's a small bridge that crosses the river."
"And go where? I don't know that side of the river," he said. "I'm Alan, by the way."
"Beverly."
Alan Dawson tried to reply, but Beverly placed her hand over his mouth and pointed to the direction of the men. Finn waited for Wayne to leave and entered the haunted house. A few seconds later, he exited, leading Melanie by her wrist.
"Finn won't hurt her," Beverly said.
"Why are they holding her prisoner?" Alan asked.
"I'm not entirely sure. Come on."
Alan followed Beverly. They kept their distance, stopping when Finn led Melanie to her cell.
"There shouldn't be anyone else in there. You're going to have to hold the door open. It locks from the inside. Give me about thirty seconds to get Finn's attention." Beverly moved a few feet, stopped, and faced Alan. "Be gentle with the door. It squeaks a little. You got the needle?"
Alan nodded.
"Thirty seconds," Beverly said before disappearing behind the door.
Alan held the door open with his foot. He pressed his ear to the opening.
"She's not supposed to have any visitors," Finn said.
"I'm not a visitor. I'm her doctor, and I need to make sure she isn't showing signs of a concussion," Beverly said.
"You should have checked for that when you were with her earlier. I can’t let you see her," Finn said.
"What happens if she dies overnight, and I tell Wayne you wouldn't let me check on her?"
"His name is Maestro. I'll let you in, but I'm coming with you."
Beverly knew Alan would be right behind her, but it still startled her when he popped up behind Finn.
"What's wrong?" Finn asked.
Alan jammed the syringe in Finn's neck. He swatted at it as if he were smacking a mosquito. Alan punched Finn in the face, dropping him to his knees. He drew back to hit him again, but Beverly stepped in between t
hem.
"That's enough. He's defenseless," she said.
Finn slouched against the wall. Beverly grabbed his shoulders so he wouldn't fall face first on the ground. She took a key from his belt.
"Get Melanie," Beverly said.
Alan opened the cell. Melanie fell back into a corner of the room.
"It's OK. I'm going to get you out of here."
Beverly poked her head into the room. "Go with him. Hurry."
"I..."
"No time. Take her the way I told you," Beverly said.
Alan held out his hand. Melanie grabbed on to him. He led her past Finn. She stopped and turned to Beverly.
"Come with us."
"I can't. These people need me," Beverly said, bending over Finn. "They're not all bad." She eyed Melanie’s bare feet. “Take these.” Beverly slipped out of her loafers.
“I can’t,” Melanie said.
“The terrain will destroy your feet. I have more shoes.” Beverly smiled.
Melanie slid her feet into the loafers.
"We have to go," Alan said.
Beverly caressed Finn's forehead as she watched them leave. She took Finn by the shoulders and propped him against a wall.
"Where do you think you're going, Melanie Carpenter?"
The voice shook Beverly to her core. "Wayne." She left Finn and ran outside.
Wayne aimed a pistol in the direction of Alan and Melanie as they neared the junk pile of ride parts. He fired. Alan fell forward.
"Keep running," Alan said.
Melanie grabbed Alan's arm. "Get up. I'm not leaving you. How bad is it?"
"Right shoulder," Alan said.
"That's like breaking a nail. Come on," Melanie said.
She helped Alan to his feet. It took him a few seconds to regain his balance, but after adrenaline kicked in, he took Melanie's hand and headed for the opening in the fence. Wayne took aim at Melanie.
"Wayne, stop," Beverly said.
"Did you do this?" Wayne lowered the gun.
"She doesn't belong here," Beverly said.
"You're right. She belongs in Hell." Wayne aimed the revolver at Melanie again.
Beverly stepped between Wayne and Melanie. She raised her arms.
"Get out of the way," Wayne said.
"Let her go," Beverly said.
"There," Alan said, pointing to the fence. "You go first."
Melanie looked over her shoulder to see Beverly standing in front of Wayne's aim.
"Beverly, no," Melanie said.
"Move. I am not going to tell you again," Wayne said.
"You're going to have to kill me," Beverly said.
Wayne fired a shot to the right of Beverly's head. She didn't flinch. The bullet ricocheted off a piece of metal track for a rollercoaster, barely missing Alan's head as he crawled under the fence.
"Why?" Wayne asked. He lowered the revolver and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.
"She didn't deserve your false prophet justice," Beverly said.
"I'm sick and tired of you telling me how I should lead The Congregation," Wayne said.
"It's not a congregation, Wayne. It's a bunch of misfits trying to survive in this world. They've put their faith in you." Beverly sighed. "And they're wrong for it."
"Do you know how long I planned for her?" Wayne asked.
"I know how long I've turned a blind eye to your psychopathy," Beverly said.
"Your actions have done permanent damage to our relationship," Wayne said.
"Did you hear what I said?" Beverly asked.
Wayne turned his back to Beverly. "What happened to us? I loved you like a mother."
"I woke up. I came here to help people. Wayne, you're beyond help," Beverly said. "People like Melanie Carpenter are the ones who need to be saved."
"She was never supposed to leave here."
"Well, she did, and I'm not sorry about that," Beverly said.
Wayne faced Beverly. He aimed the revolver at her head.
"So you're going to shoot me because I don't agree with you? How does this follow your philosophy of the afterlife?"
"That's Maestro's teaching, not mine." Wayne pulled the trigger. "You may not be sorry, but I am.” A single tear trickled down his cheek as he watched Beverly crumple in front of him.
He looked toward the pile of ride parts. Alan and Melanie were gone. Wayne paced in front of Beverly's body. He bent to a knee and wiped blood from Beverly's forehead, revealing a hole between her eyes, which were still open.
"I really hope you went to Heaven," he said before closing Beverly's eyes.
Melanie froze at the sound of the gunshot. "Beverly?"
Alan fell into a pile of brush to avoid running over her. He cried out as a branch jabbed him near the wound.
"I'm sorry," Melanie said, helping him to his feet. "It's just... she was the only person there with any sort of redeeming quality."
"Don't apologize," Alan said, picking briars from his shirt.
"How's the shoulder?" Melanie asked.
"It's definitely making me forget about the hunger," Alan said.
"We have plenty of food and a damn good doctor back at camp. It's not that far. We'll be there in a couple hours or so. If they didn't follow us."
The sound of snapping twigs caused Alan to pull Melanie behind an oak. He placed his finger over her lips. The noise of rustling leaves joined in and grew closer. Melanie spotted a group of the dead through a small clearing.
"The dead," she said.
Alan bent over her and counted at least ten. There was something different about this group. There was no decaying flesh, no hair falling out. Alan hadn't seen an infected person this intact since the beginning of the Judas outbreak.
"Think we can take them?" Melanie asked.
"Are you hiding an AR-15 somewhere?" Alan asked. "I've got a revolver with two bullets. All that's going to do is bring more of them."
"So we let them pass," Melanie said.
"When was the last time you saw one that didn't look like a rotting corpse?" Alan asked.
Melanie pushed a branch from her sight. The horde looked as though it had just turned. Several of the dead still had a pinkish tone to their flesh.
"One came to our compound the other day. I know the virus is evolving. These look fresh, just like her," Melanie said. "You don't think Judas has found a way to infect the immune, do you?"
"For our sake, I hope not," Alan said.
The horde moved to the edge of the river and stopped. The group stood near the water until a woman, dressed in a tank-top and yoga pants, started to walk parallel to the water. The horde followed her.
"Are they thinking now?" Melanie asked.
"Sure looks like it," Alan said. "We probably should let them pass. I'm not strong enough to fight off the freshly turned."
"I am. But I'm tired of doing all the work these days," Melanie said with a smile. "We'll just wait them out."
Part Three
The End of The World As We Know It… Again
Sun Tzu Quote
“But a kingdom that has once been destroyed can never come again into being; nor can the dead ever be brought back to life.”
-Sun Tzu
Twenty-Four
"How close do you think we are?"
"I thought you outgrew that kid phase," Nick Preston said.
"It was a simple question, shithead. It's your fault we have no idea where we are. You're supposed to be a super technology genius, and you can't fix your own phone," Daria said.
"It's the battery, smart ass. I'm good, but I cannot build a battery from thin air," Nick said.
"Wind power, genius," Daria said.
Q Warren laughed. "She's got you there, Nick."
Daria cocked her head and smirked. Q maneuvered the SUV through a pile of wrecked cars and trash on the road. He eyed the gas gauge. The needle neared E.
"We're going to be out of gas soon," Q said. "We need to find something better on gas."
"Why don't
we get a hybrid? Or better yet, a Tesla. Oh, wait, they take batteries, and Nick fucks batteries up. Never mind," Daria said.
"Everybody thinks they’re a comedian at the end of the world," Nick said.
"Hold on," Q said, swerving to miss a woman staggering down the centerline of the road. She was older, probably late sixties or early seventies. Her gray hair could have made a comfy home for birds. A green and orange shawl hung from her shoulders. She ignored the car and kept walking.
Q corrected the steering as four women emerged from the woods. The women were similar in age and dress. They staggered toward the first woman in a uniform pattern.
"What the hell? Did we interrupt bingo night?" Daria asked.
"Maybe bridge," Nick said.
"Let's not stick around to find out," Q said.
Q punched the gas. The SUV sputtered and stalled.
"Really? Out of gas, now?" Daria asked. "You guys are always fucking shit up at the most inopportune times. If I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to get me killed."
"I don't want you dead. It would be nice if you shut up every once in a while," Nick said.
"Save the fighting for later, kids," Q said.
Three more women followed by four men pushed through the trees and surrounded the SUV. One man pressed his face against the passenger window. He flicked his tongue over the glass. A small circle appeared near his mouth.
"This gives another meaning to old pervert," Daria said, moving away from the window.
"Do you see that?" Q reached over Daria and pointed to the moisture on the window. "He's breathing. He's not dead."
Nick inched closer to the window. "His eyes are clear, but they have to be infected."
"Or just old," Daria said. "There's not much difference."
The man smashed his face into the window, cracking it. He raised his head and slammed into the glass again. Q tried to start the SUV. The engine was dead. A woman climbed onto the hood and pounded her fists onto the windshield. The back of the SUV rocked as people banged on the glass.
