Dead (A Lot)

by Howard Odentz

  A lot could happen in eighty-four hours. You could hook up with your arch nemesis. Your sister could get tight with a paraplegic on steroids. Fire could become one of the most important tools in your tool box. You could kill a whole lot of zombies—AND—you could be traveling with a crow with an attitude.

  But I was more interested in now than the past. The only decent meals we had eaten in the last eighty-four hours had been at Stella’s, and our own stockpile of readily edible food was looking pretty grim. When we were back at North Amherst Sundries, we had been all about the potato chips, chocolate, peanut butter and jelly, bread and water. Trina had grabbed a bunch of junk food from home when we first left, but our original stash only amounted to a couple six packs of cola, cookies, and a bag of apples.

  Everything downstairs in Aunt Ella’s larder had to be cooked. Unless we were going to go all Little House on the Prairie and make breakfast in the fireplace in the living room, we were stuck with peanut butter sandwiches.

  Again.

  “Or we can use that,” Jimmy said and pointed to the deck off the kitchen. There was a gas grill sitting there, a little rusty, attached to a propane tank.

  “Um, I don’t cook,” said Trina. She had already made a conscious choice to eat a bar of chocolate smeared with peanut butter.

  “You’re going to get zits,” I said as I eyed her breakfast.

  “I already got you,” she smiled as chocolate oozed through her teeth.

  “We have a grill . . . um . . . we had a grill at home,” said Prianka. “How about I boil some water, and we can at least have coffee.”

  We all raised our hands in a silent vote of yes. Prianka busied herself with filling a pot with water, turning on the grill, and searching my aunt’s cabinets for coffee.

  In less than twenty minutes, we were all drinking fresh ground mocha java because that’s the only flavor Aunt Ella had. I guess we didn’t care that Sanjay and Bullseye were riding the caffeine train right along with us. Maybe a little bit of the jitters was just what Sanjay needed to rattle him out of his funk.

  Prianka also toasted some bread for us right on the grill and sprinkled sugar and cinnamon on top. Trina ate two pieces. With the whole world sliding toward the grave, she was coping by binging. If she didn’t learn to cope without chowing down, Jimmy was going to be labeled a chubby chaser.

  I helped Prianka clean up because I guess that’s what I was supposed to do. Everyone else had gone outside. I held a plastic bag as she threw away the remains of breakfast. At one point, I purposely brushed her hand with mine. She stopped and looked at me with that stare that I couldn’t quite figure out. Was I going to get whipped with her ‘oh so rapier wit,’ or was I going to get a little action.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Everyone will see.”

  “For real?” I gasped. “In case you haven’t noticed, everyone’s dead.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, actually I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Maybe I don’t know what I mean.”

  “Maybe I’m just too sexy for you.”

  “No. I’m sure that’s not it.”

  “Nice.” I said. “Peachy.” I stood there with the trash in my hands. Prianka tilted her head sideways and inspected me like I was something she was thinking about buying. “You want me to turn around?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. You know what?” I dropped the bag at our feet and grabbed her hands and pulled her to me. “Just shut up and let everyone see.”

  I kissed her.

  No wonder there was a bounce to my step as we joined everyone outside.

  TARGET PRACTICE was first on the agenda. We set up apple crates at the end of the driveway and perched empty soda cans on them. Bullseye laid out all our guns on the porch and methodically inspected each one, exactly how his father had taught him.

  He looked at our ammunition and matched bullets to guns as though he was a little kid playing that game where you try and fit the right shape into the right hole before the buzzer goes off.

  “We’re going to need more ammunition,” he said when he was finally done. He stood with his hands on his hips, standing over the guns we had taken from Jimmy’s landlord. “My father used to stock up at a place somewhere up here. I think maybe in Purgatory Chasm, but I’m not sure.”

  “Purgatory Chasm?” said Prianka with a weird look on her face. “Seriously? There’s a place called Purgatory Chasm?”

  I looked at my sister. “Big headed people,” I whispered, and we shared a secret smile.

  “There’s always Greenfield,” said Jimmy.

  Trina snorted. “Not on a bet.”

  “No gun shop, anyway,” said Bullseye. “Not in Greenfield.”

  “Yeah,” said Jimmy. “Probably not hick enough.”

  I laughed. “But Purgatory Chasm sounds just hick enough, right?” The name fit right in with Bellows Falls, Darkmeadow, and Satan’s Kingdom, all of which were other towns off the Trail.

  What were our forefathers thinking? Names didn’t scare off people. Poxers scared off people.

  Prianka watched intently as Bullseye showed us how to load the rifles, shoulder the butts of the guns, aim, and shoot. His first shot knocked one of the cans right off an apple crate. It spun in the air and landed next to a dying clump of grass surrounded by autumn leaves.

  “Sweet,” I whistled.

  “Can I try?” Prianka asked. Bullseye handed her the rifle and went over all the pointers again. She shouldered the gun and closed one eye as she took aim. She fired, but nothing happened, which meant that the bullet either ended up in the dirt or lodged in a tree somewhere across the street.

  “One more try,” she said. This time, she hit one of the apple crates but not the can. That was still pretty awesome, and we all clapped. Newfie, who had come up on the porch to join us, watched her with a bored look on his face. As far as guns were concerned, I bet this wasn’t his first rodeo. Maybe Aunt Ella had a couple stashed upstairs somewhere. I made a mental note to look under her mattress.

  All of us took turns. Jimmy chose the handgun that Bullseye had taken from the sporting goods store. Somehow, I felt funny using it, because of Mr. Choy and what had happened, but Jimmy took to shooting like he was born with a gun in his hand.

  “Lots and lots of video games,” he explained. “Lots and lots and lots of video games.”

  Out of everyone, I was the least good at the whole gun thing. I mean, I understood how to use one, and I made a pretty good attempt at one of the cans, but I wasn’t naturally comfortable with firearms. If I had to, I could be okay with one. Still, I definitely needed loads of practice. We didn’t have the bullets for that.

  Trina was a born natural, just like Jimmy. She tried both the handgun and one of the rifles that Bullseye said was mint. Before too long, she was hitting cans with ease.

  While the girls were taking turns shooting, I sat down on the front steps with Newfie on one side of me and Bullseye and Sanjay on the other. Bullseye had taken a shine to Sanjay just like the animals had. Even mute, Sanjay was something special. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I’m sure Bullseye did, too, He softly stroked Andrew’s back while the crow sat on Sanjay’s shoulder and quietly talked to both of them about everything—his family, his sisters, his parents, his school. I was pretty grateful, actually. He fit in naturally with the rest of us, just like a new little brother. He was a great addition to our family—if that’s what we were becoming.

  Jimmy wheeled up to me and spun around so he was facing the girls.

  “You have something you want to tell me?” he said, leaning forward in his chair, his hands folded together.

  “No.”

  “Okay. You have something, but you don’t want to tell me?”

  “That sounds good,” I said. “Let
’s go with that.”

  He smiled and popped his chair back so the front wheels were dangling off the ground. “It’s all copasetic,” he said.

  “Copa what?” I had no idea what he meant. For the first time that day, I thought about what happened when we left Stella’s place. Poopy Puppy would have known what copasetic meant. He was smart, after all. Poopy Puppy was really, really smart.

  “It’s cool,” he said. “Five by five.”

  I shrugged. “Listen, it’s no big deal. I guess we’re sort of working things out.”

  “Hey, man. I don’t need to know.”

  “Obviously you do. You asked.”

  “Just looking out for you, Bro.”

  “I’m fine—really—everything’s copa-cabana, or whatever you just said.”

  We both watched the girls. Really, Jimmy? Just looking out for me? Who was looking out for Trina? After all, who was this Jimmy James character, anyway? A few days ago he didn’t even exist to me. So what if we saved him? Now, he’s just some poser in a wheelchair, hell bent on feeling up my sister any chance he gets. True—Trina wasn’t complaining, but still, the Light twins watch out for each other.

  I leaned forward so I was right alongside his auburn-stubbled face. “If you hurt my sister in any way,” I whispered, “I’ll drive you down the Trail and drop you by the highway in Greenfield.”

  Jimmy turned and stared at me—his eyes wide and his mouth opened. He was genuinely speechless. Hey, that’s the way we roll in the Light household.

  Prianka shot a hole right into a can. I whistled and clapped.

  “Good one,” I yelled. “That’s the way it’s done.”

  After a moment, Jimmy began to clap, too. That’s how we left things—one big, fat, happy, clapping family.

  55

  “BULLSEYE HAS to come,” I said. “Not only does he know what bullets we need, he knows how to get to Purgatory Chasm.”

  “So why do you have to go?” said Prianka.

  “I’m driving.”

  “I know how to drive.”

  “You have Sanjay.” That made her stop arguing.

  My sister was sitting on Jimmy’s lap again with her arms around his neck. “I’m going, too,” she said.

  He almost dropped her. “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes I am.”

  “But . . .”

  “But what?” she said. “But-freaking-what?”

  I looked at Jimmy, shrugged, and shook my head.

  “She can take you,” I said. “Muscle head or no, is this the hill you want to die on?” I loved that saying. My mother used to say the same thing whenever I was being pigheaded.

  “Fine,” he pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “See if there’s an organic place in town. I want something healthy to eat.”

  “Aye, aye,” said Trina and saluted him. I could tell she really did like Jimmy. He wasn’t a Chuck Peterson. Jimmy James was the closest thing she had ever come to the real deal. I was happy for her.

  We made a short list of things we needed and hoped to find in Purgatory Chasm, including propane tanks. Prianki promised if we could find them, she wouldn’t mind making some hot meals on the grill.

  Jimmy kissed Trina goodbye in a way-too-gross public display of affection. I was a little more discreet and pulled Prianka into the bathroom for a couple minutes. I didn’t know who I thought I was hiding from.

  “They know, you know,” I told her as I ran my hand through her hair.

  “I know,” she said. “Trina asked.”

  “So did Jimmy.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him if he hurt my sister I would drive him down to the bottom of the Trail and leave him there.”

  Prianka laughed.

  “Trina told me if I messed with your head she’d shave mine while I was sleeping.”

  “Hey. Us Lights stick together.”

  Prianka gave me one last kiss. “Please, please, please be careful.” She said. “There are poxers everywhere.”

  “I know. I know. We have Bullseye, and we have lots of fire. Don’t worry about us. Purgatory Chasm can’t be more than ten minutes up the road. Besides, we’re in Hicksville. I’m sure that we can handle whatever poxers we come across.”

  “Don’t burn down the whole town while you’re at it,” she said. “Who knows what kind of supplies we’ll need from there in the future.” Back in the kitchen Prianka said, “You know, I’m way happier with the thought of you guys going to the boonies instead of back down to Greenfield. Too many dead things there.”

  I agreed. “Let’s just hope there are a lot less dead things where we’re going.”

  Sanjay sat at the kitchen table with Andrew. He watched the llamas out in the pasture with that vacant Poopy-Puppy-less expression. More than anything, I wished I could get that stupid, dirty toy back for him and for Prianka, too. I just wished I could fix everything.

  Ten minutes later, Prianka and Jimmy stood on the porch with Newfie as we backed Stella’s minivan out of the driveway. I felt a little weird about splitting up, but the last thing we needed right now was to put all of us in danger. We had guns, and we had a short agenda. There’s no way we wouldn’t be back in a few hours.

  Funny how things never work out the way you plan.

  56

  THE POXERS WERE definitely getting mangy. Four days with no shower can make anyone rank, but open sores, bite marks, gangrene, and who knows what else were really making them look pretty gross.

  Geez—take a sponge bath or something.

  We passed several poxers along the road by the orchards on our way back to the Trail. Their hair was matted and tangled. Their clothes were bloodied and torn.

  “Hey—slow down,” said Bullseye as we came up along a lady in her underwear, staggering along the side of the road. “I want you guys to see what happens when they get shot.”

  “That’s just wrong,” said Trina.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Shooting one or the fact that she’s only in her underwear? What’s the deal with that, anyway?”

  Bullseye rolled down his window and stuck a rifle out. The poxer lady turned and gurgled at us. There was something stringy between her teeth. I really didn’t want to know what her last meal had been. She made a lame attempt to lunge at the minivan. Bullseye waited until she was close—maybe a little too close. Then he shot her in the head.

  I wasn’t ready to see gray matter explode everywhere. Thankfully, her head didn’t bust open. Instead, she stood there dazed for a few seconds before dropping to her knees and falling backwards like she was about to do the Limbo.

  “Now watch,” said Bullseye. “This is the freaky part.”

  The poxer lay there for a moment, twitching, before slowly pushing herself back up with her palms flat against the gritty tar. She crawled to her knees and eventually got back up on her feet. The bullet hole was clean, but black goo oozed down her face and landed on her open tongue. She smacked her lips and swallowed the grossness back down.

  She growled again, a little more menacingly than the first time, and reached her arms out toward us.

  “See—a head shot’s no good. But like Prianka said, if you shoot one in the leg, you can stop them in their tracks.” Bullseye pointed the barrel of the gun at her knee and pulled the trigger. The whole side of her leg splattered onto the side of the road, and she went down like a ton of bricks—and that was one ton of bricks that was never going to get up again.

  “Seen enough,” I said. “Thanks for the freak show.” I sped up and left Bullet Hole Betty in the dust.

  “Weird, huh?” said Bullseye and leaned back in his seat. He was definitely too young for all this. Yeah, sure, they were dead and all, but he just shot a woman in the head and the leg, and Trina and I sat there and
watched. I might as well have had a box of buttered popcorn with me.

  I could feel waves of tension starting to wash over me. My hands gripped the wheel just a little too tightly, and Trina started biting her nails.

  “I hate this,” she said.

  “We all hate this.”

  We came around a curve and down a small dip in the road. Before long, we were where the tractor trailer was laying like a dead dinosaur across our path. I took the same route—around—over the lawn—and out to the Trail. I totally ignored the poxers that were still milling around the parking lot across the street.

  “How far from here?” I asked.

  “Not far,” said Bullseye. “I’m sure I’ll know the turn when I see it.”

  We drove with the windows open. The air wasn’t quite nippy, but it was definitely crisp and cool in that way that made you think of hay rides and apple cider.

  Just like before, there weren’t many cars on the Trail. Anyone heading north would have stuck to the highway on a Friday night. Occasionally, we passed a wreck on the road or a poxer or two, but for the most part we were climbing a lonely mountain up to Purgatory Chasm.

  Before long, Bullseye started prepping us.

  “It’s going to be soon,” he said. “I recognize that gift shop,” he said. “See the fake, plastic buffalo. I remember my dad taking a picture of me sitting on its back,” he said.

  I’m still not quite clear why there was a fake, plastic buffalo anywhere in Massachusetts, but I guess the thing probably meant something to someone.

  Coming up on our left we saw a big sign with two double hearts that said ‘Welcome to the Romance Rendezvous’ with an arrow pointing down.

  “There,” cried Bullseye. “Purgatory Chasm’s down there.” He pointed his arm out the window and past where a big, white restaurant stood called the Romance Rendezvous.

  Trina snorted. “Nice place to take Prianka.”

  “Oh—you are so not going there.”

  “Going where?”

  “Just don’t start, okay. I’m wigging out enough without any crap from you.”