“You can imagine how mad he must have been when he woke up the next morning. She just whacked him with a frying pan, told him to shut up. Every time he started to raise his voice, she would hit him again. She beat the tar out of him. Ever notice Cobb’s crooked nose? That didn’t happen in some bar fight. She broke it with a frying pan. She wasn’t playing. Kim said she smacked on him for days with that pan. When he finally learned not to shout, he started telling her what he was going to do to her when he got out. How he was going to teach her a lesson she would never forget. He struggled for a long time before he finally gave up and realized there was no way he could get free. She left him there.
“He pissed himself, he crapped himself. After a few days, he was begging. She didn’t feed him or give him water. She told him he was going to stay there until her face was completely healed. If he died before it was, then the Gods had willed it. Cobb knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer without water. He begged and promised. Anything to get out. She had broken him. Something the toughest Marines or the wars he was in couldn’t do.
“You know Cobb doesn’t drink, right?” she asked. “He hasn’t touched booze since then. She finally cut him loose when he was too weak to stand. More dead than alive. She bathed him, gave him soup, told him she loved him more than any woman could love a man and would until she was old and gray. But if he ever hit her again, or hit one of their children in anger, she would sew him in the sheets and take the children and go back home to her people. He believed her.”
“Good for her,” Sara said.
Gunny didn’t know what to say to that. Wondered how much was true and how much was family legend. Best not to say anything when women were telling women stories. He watched Martha over the counter, unafraid of the big man, not letting him say anything disparaging about her drivers, her soldiers. Her friends. But other customers and the blonde in the skin tight skirt at his side were siding with the man, shouting their own opinions in when they got a chance and he knew this wasn’t going to end well. Cobb was going to blow a gasket and punch the guy any minute.
Cadillac Jack stood by Cobb with an angry scowl on his face, but he was seventy if he was a day. There were only a few drivers in there, mostly guys that had come in for a quick break. The rest were out doing what needed to be done.
Digging holes in the ground and burying dead bodies. Reinforcing the windows and walls. Standing guard on the roof or patching the fence. Establishing communications with other pockets of people and trying to figure out what was going on. Trying to save the wounded and running tests on dead bodies to try to determine some way to help.
And these spoiled, lazy bastards, sitting in the air-conditioned diner this whole time sipping coffee, were giving Martha and Cobb hell for doing what had to be done to save their sorry asses. He kept hearing the same mantra over and over from the people out there. You are delusional, there are no such thing as zombies, this isn’t a Hollywood movie set and that truck driver right there killed two people. He smashed up a bunch of cars and as soon as the phones were working, he’d be arrested for murder.
Gunny was getting pissed. They were all experiencing cognitive dissonance. They were refusing to believe what was plainly self-evident but it was too much for them to grasp. It would shatter their little world of make believe they had created for themselves over the past few hours. They weren’t helping do anything because then they would have to face the truth. They would just sit in here, reassuring everyone and themselves that it would all be just fine.
Things would sort themselves out. The police or the government would get things under control shortly and things can get back to normal. Help would be here soon. He heard a moan from the blinded painter who had half of his face missing. He was thawing out. Gunny didn’t think in his anger, just grabbed the edges of the tarp, wrapped it around the thawing corpse and started dragging it through the kitchen and into the dining room.
When they saw him coming through the doors a few of them pointed at him. “There he is,” he heard. The man in the pink polo shirt wasn’t shy, he yelled right at him. “You killed two people! We saw you and none of your trashy trucker friends can cover that up! Where’s that police officer that was here? What did you people do to him? And you destroyed my car! It cost more than you can ever earn! I hope you have insurance, I’m going to sue you for every dime you have and every dime you will ever make!”
The blonde had her hand on his shoulder and bobbed her head up and down like an idiot bobble head doll. There were other comments and shouts at him but he ignored them all, just drug his struggling load wrapped in the tarp to the middle of the room near the man where they all could see then dropped the ends he was holding.
The room got quiet as the blinded thing inside pushed away the ends of the plastic and struggled to sit up, still half frozen.
“He’s been in a sub-zero freezer for the past couple of hours,” Gunny said quietly. That should have killed him.”
There were gasps and the scraping of chairs as everyone moved back a few steps when they realized what it was. Mr. Ferrari grabbed his girlfriend and pushed her in front of him as he backpedaled away.
“He was bitten in the neck, his jugular vein ripped wide open. That should have killed him.”
They all looked on in horror as it tried to stand. Gunny kicked him back down then pulled out his gun and shot it in the chest. The people screamed and there were shouts of protest.
“That was a nine-millimeter hollow point bullet aimed right into his heart from two feet away. That should have killed him.” The thing had bounced off the floor and continued to try to sit up. Gunny shot it thirteen more times in rapid succession, pulling the trigger as fast as he could, riddling its body, shattering bone, blowing big holes in its chest and bigger ones out of its back.
The roar of the gun and the screams of the people were deafening in the confined space as the bullets went through it, the linoleum and into the hardwood floor. The last shot’s echo faded away, the cordite smell filled the room and with gun smoke still curling from the barrel, the blinded thing struggled to sit up again. It couldn’t, its spine was shattered.
It pulled itself over and started crawling towards the blonde woman who was still screaming. Its forward progress was slow, still half frozen, but relentless. Gunny paced it, just watching as the horror clawed towards the human sounds it heard. Its ruined face half missing, its eye sockets hollow and the remains of its squished orbs dangling on grizzly stalks.
“Do you still think he’s just sick?” He asked the crowd who was backing away, their eyes glued to the crawling wreck of a human being. “Do you think he’s still alive?” he asked, looking at them, trying to catch their eyes. “Anyone want to check for a pulse?” He looked around at the crowd, at the looks of fear on their faces as they kept pushing away from it. “Anyone?” he said, barely above a whisper.
There were no takers.
It drug itself along the floor, trailing blood and slime from its blown open chest, chunks of broken ribs and spine jutting out of its back. “If he bites you, within a few hours, you will become just like him,” Gunny said, walking softly beside it. He didn’t have to raise his voice, the room was deathly silent except for a quietly crying blonde woman with her hands over her mouth desperately trying to silence herself.
“He can hear you,” Gunny whispered and the gurgling sound coming from the crawling man’s throat, the rasp of fingers and skin on the floor as it pulled itself along seemed uncannily amplified. “It can’t be bargained with.” He murmured.
“It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity or remorse or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, EVER, until you are dead.”
The crowd had moved away from the woman who couldn’t manage to stop her hitching, crying sobs. She was against the wall and couldn’t retreat any further. She was alone. Her boyfriend wasn’t helping her. The people she had befriended these past few hours weren’t helping her. The thing on the floor pulled himself towards her
, its’ useless legs trailing behind in a smear of blood and intestinal juices, its teeth starting to gnash in anticipation of food.
“The world has fallen, people,” he said “I don’t know how, or why or who did it but the world we woke up to is gone. The sooner you realize that, the longer you will survive.”
“Please…” the woman sobbed, tearing her eyes away from the crawling thing only a few feet away from her, looking at Gunny. Her mascara was streaked and running down her cheeks, her tears flowing freely. “Please don’t.” She whimpered, still unable to move away or stop her crying.
“Stop it” someone in the crowd cried. “Just stop it!”
Gunny grabbed the scrabbling thing by the hair, drug it back to the tarp and placed the gun against its forehead. He used the last bullet to stop its struggles then wrapped it back up in the tarp. He drug it out towards the shop to be buried with the rest, feeling like an asshole for scaring the woman so badly. He wasn’t going to let it bite anyone. He just wanted them to understand what they were dealing with but it probably went too far.
Especially that Terminator quote.
Chapter 9
“Prone to theatrics much,” Kim asked when Gunny, Tiny and most of the rest of the drivers and mechanics came back into the diner an hour or so later, finished with their tasks of burying the dead, repairing the fence and securing the building as best they could.
“It got the point across,” he said a little defensively.
“You’re right about that,” she replied “Nobody wants you arrested anymore. Except maybe the Ferrari guy. He’s probably still upset. But his girlfriend hates him now. Called him a coward for pushing her in front of him. Kind of funny, actually. You want some lunch? Cookie made up a bunch of stuff, just grab a plate and head to the buffet.”
There seemed to be more people than there were this morning and Gunny mentioned this as they got in line behind Scratch, waiting to load their plates.
“There are,” Tiny said. “After everything quieted down, when you guys were all out back digging the graves, a bunch of guys that had stayed in their trucks made a run for the front doors. There’s enough room to squeeze past Packrat’s trailer and get inside. But Cobb’s blocked that now, there are too many of those dead things out there.”
Gunny hadn’t been up on the roof again and the view from the windows was blocked by the trucks. “Really?” he said, “They’re coming in off the road?”
“Yeah,” Tiny replied. “They’re trickling in by ones and twos. Sometimes a half dozen. But they just keep coming. There is probably sixty or seventy out there now, just milling around. I was up on the roof for about an hour till Peanut Butter relieved me. I guess the noise or maybe the smell of people is attracting them.”
“Crap,” Gunny said. “I was planning on leaving after I ate and said my goodbyes.”
“Might want to wait till Wire Bender has his say.” Scratch said. “He’s gathered all the information he has so far and him and Cobb are planning on giving a little brief to everyone. Kind of let everybody know everything that they’ve been able to figure out, I guess.”
Gunny nodded and added an extra slice of meatloaf to his plate. Cookie had been a Mess Sergeant in the Army and his food was never very fancy but it was always good and filling. He found a booth by the window and the three of them sat in the same configuration they had just a few hours ago watching the firm backside of the leather clad girl on the motorcycle, ignorant to the death and destruction that was only a few minutes in their future.
“Déjà vu,” Scratch said. Voicing what all of them felt.
The TV was off now. None of the cable channels worked and the local stations only had test patterns. Some of the radio stations were still playing music but they hadn’t heard a live voice over the air in hours.
Cobb clomped in a few minutes later with Wire Bender and The Preacher following close behind, both of them carrying papers in their arms. “Preacher made it in. Cool.” Scratch said. “I was wondering if he was out in the chapel.”
“Yeah,” Gunny said. “He was out back with us while Cobb had you on cleanup detail. He said some words over the ones we buried.”
“Right,” Scratch groused at him “Thanks for that. Next time do you have to let it leave a blood trail a mile long?”
“At ease!” Cobb barked, and the Truckers quieted down instantly, the others in the dining room soon realized the strange command meant ‘shut up’ and stopped talking to pay attention. He was standing near the entry doors and Wire Bender was helping Preacher unfurl a map of the world and pin it to the bulletin board, covering up the ‘trucks for sale’ and ‘drivers needed’ posts that were on it.
“Since Gunny’s little display of marksmanship and the proper way to ruin a perfectly good floor” Cobb started in without preamble, his drill sergeant voice carrying easily to the back reaches of the diner. “Everyone knows what we are up against. Right now there are about seventy of those things outside wanting inside.”
There were gasps from some of the people and a murmur started up. Cobb didn’t get louder or acknowledge the interruption, just carried on in his command voice and the people talking quickly hushed.
“Wire Bender has been in communication with people all over these United States and between that and monitoring the internet, he’s put together a pretty good picture of what we are dealing with. These two girls have some medical experience and have a little something they want to say about what they’ve been able to figure out.”
He pointed his chin at Sara and Stacy to indicate them. “The Padre here is going to say a little prayer and then Wire Bender will brief you on what we know.” He moved aside and Preacher stepped up and asked for the people to bow their heads. If there were any atheists in the room, they didn’t voice any complaints.
Preacher was succinct in his prayer, mentioned the bible passages that talked about the dead rising, asked for guidance and when he finished, there was a hearty Amen.
Wire Bender stepped up then, looking a little nervous at all the eyes on him. He started out hesitantly with many “ums” and “ers” but once he got going, the facts and figures and numbers came fast and hard. He referenced the map, pointing out all of the cities he knew for certain were in utter chaos. He had highlighted them in red.
They were all red. Paris, Berlin, Moscow, Tokyo, London, Seoul, Beijing, New Delhi, New York, Mexico City, Washington D.C., Los Angeles, Atlanta…. All of them. This contagion had spread so fast no one could figure out the trigger that had caused it. From gleaning through all the news reports, he had determined that it started two days ago in limited areas but today it had exploded worldwide.
Everywhere at once. There was something instigating it, some release mechanism no one had figured out yet and it was following the path of the sun. The CDC scientists in Atlanta and the Military had been frantically working all night, trying to determine the cause but when the sun came up in America, our cities had gone the way of the rest of the world. As near as anyone could determine, it had started in Japan, spread to China and Russia, devastated Europe in a matter of hours and started in North America around 6 am, Eastern Standard Time.
Reports from South America were spotty but from everything he had heard, they weren’t spared either. As far as he knew, Hawaii, Australia and the islands in the Pacific hadn’t been affected, maybe some of the Caribbean Islands but he didn’t know for sure. There was stunned silence when he wound up his report, nearly every city on the world map was red.
Overrun.
Dead.
Except for one glaring exception.
“What about the Middle East?” Gunny asked. “Tehran? Cairo? Damascus? Riyadh? I don’t see any red marks in any of those countries. Anything from Israel?”
Wire Bender looked back at the map like he was seeing it for the first time, seeing it clearly. He tilted his head, hand to chin, looking like he was deep in thought. “I never noticed…” he started then took off out of the diner, heading back to his sho
p.
“He probably doesn’t have any communications with them. He doesn’t speak Muslim does he?” someone asked.
Most of the former soldiers snorted or laughed. Muslim wasn’t a language and every nation over in the Middle East had their own tongue. But they were right in their assumption. Wire Bender probably didn’t speak any of the languages from those countries.
Stacy stepped up and gave a brief rundown of what happened to the Deputy, Brian and Ozzy. How fast it attacked their respiratory system, how the fever spiked then they died. And came back. All from one bite, all within a matter of hours. But based on what the drivers told her, if you die from blood loss or any other reason after being bitten, you came back almost instantly.
Like a shot of Heroin in the veins, the saliva was in your system as soon as it broke skin and got into your blood stream. She told Hot Rod to stand up and explained about his scratches and how he was showing no symptoms then briefly told about the few tests she could run on the painter that had been in the freezer.
No pulse, no heartbeat. No change in pupils with white light stimulation. No blood pressure. The only way to kill them is to destroy the brain. It was alive somehow and controlling the rest of the body. Kill the brain, kill the body. She stressed how important it was that if anyone was bitten that they be isolated. Even the smallest bite.
Cobb came back up to squint at the map for a moment then started in again with his Drill Instructor’s voice. “People, we’ve made this place as secure as we can and everyone here is welcome to stay as long as you want. By the same token, you’re welcome to leave if you want to try to get back home. If any of you drivers have loads of food and you’re planning on staying here, then plan on unloading the truck. Tommy is working on a way to safely get them in the bays.”
“I’m planning on heading out,” Squeak said, “but we can unload a bunch of cookies and crackers if you want.”
A few other drivers voiced the same, offering some of their freight from fruits and vegetables to refrigerated beef and ham.
Zombie Road (Book 1): Convoy of Carnage Page 11
