“Of course!” he says. “I could never forget a face like yours. You were in the convoy, right?”
“That’s right!” She hugs the man that saved her and the group from the rogues on the road. “Weren’t you going to Eagle Rock?”
“I did. It’s gone now,” he tells her sadly.
“Oh no.”
“I was able to get a small group out of there. Been living it up in SBL ever since.”
“My friend, Gabe’s son and daughter-in-law, got taken there by soldiers,” Vida says, unsure if he knows who she means. She thinks back to that day for something he might remember. “Gloria! You saved Gloria from that guy. Her husband and her never stop fighting…”
“Oh! The Bickerons!” he recalls the couple. “I almost had to make them ride on the roof!”
“You got them to Story Book Land? That’s great! Gabe will be so happy!”
“It’s a small world,” Abby jokes as he watches Vida’s reunion with the heroic clown.
“And getting smaller,” Carla says. “Actually, you’d be amazed how often this sort of thing happens.”
The video begins. Shaky aerial footage filmed from a helicopter. The volume is turned down because all that can be heard are blades slicing the air. Brass knows the structure coming into focus is a nuclear plant by the tell-tale design of the cooling towers. The dead surround the plant. They crowd the lot and the land around the building and just stare, soaking in the RADs.
The camera pulls back, showing more arriving at a leisurely pace, as if they have all the time in the world. Oz tells Brass that’s exactly what the radiation leaking from the plant will do--buy them time. Brass used to sell irradiated fruits and always found it odd that they never seemed to rot. He never imagined the dead would benefit from this process.
The small screen shows zombies on the run now, chasing a meal while whoever is shooting the footage assumes the role of documentarian and doesn’t interfere. The prey is a figure in bright yellow hazmat gear, running through a small town. The dead climb over obstacles that would once thwart their mobility: cars, shopping carts, and other debris. When they can’t go over it, they find a way around it. Brass witnesses a pack of corpses double back out of a dead-end where a tractor-trailer had overturned.
The chopper lowers after finding a safe place to land, and the person in the protective clothing jumps in just in time. The filmmaker steps back to allow the rescue, and for the gunner to take his position. The man at the door opens fire at the racing throng with his heavy machine gun as the camera continues to roll, zooming in on the impacting bullets and entry wounds. It takes more than one shot to put down the irradiated dead. With more parts of their brains active it appears more of it must be destroyed to fully neutralize them. They fight to make it to the meal before it flies away. Late for supper, they watch the chopper lift off, letting out screams.
“If we had sound, we’d hear them howl,” Oz says. “They say it’s almost like a snarling shriek.”
The rest of the footage is from above. The dead on the move, looking like any other walking corpses. They walk in their typical slow manner when not on the hunt. Their ‘power save mode’ as many call it.
What strikes Brass as peculiar at first now chills his spine. “They keep looking up.”
“Yeah, and they’re coming this way. The major says they’ll be around your neck of the woods in just a few days. Hundreds of thousands of them.”
“They’ll be here sooner than a few days.” Brass kicks the video back to where a cluster of zombies look up at the helicopter and pick up their pace. “They’re watching the choppers! They know what’s in them, and now know where to find food!”
“You think they’ve learned the flight plan?” Abby asks.
“Yeah. Thanks to the fucking army they’ll probably be tearing through Ruby a lot sooner than projected, if they hit top speed.” Brass slams the computer shut. All their defenses, the labyrinth of rubble, the jungle gyms of blades and barbed wire, all their guns and every single round they have in reserve won’t stop these zombies. “What do you want?”
“We’re here to ask you and your people to come to Story Book Land with us,” Oz says. “Everything. Folks, food, and all your firepower.”
Brass holds his head as if it’s going to explode. There are so many people who have counted on him for so long. He’d hate to fail them now. “I guess we have no choice.”
“If it makes it easier,” Carla says, “we have the cure.”
“In light of what I’ve just been shown,” Brass says, “I hope you are not referring to the band? Life is depressing enough already.”
“No, it’s a vaccine. Goes right to the source of the problem. Keeps dead things dead, and takes the bite out of the bite. Still hurts like hell of course.”
“How?”
“It’s a long, complicated, unbelievable story we can tell you later.”
“Follow us,” Brass says.
“Are we really packing up and heading south?” Abby whispers once he and Brass are away from the strangers. “What if they’re lying?”
“I trust this. They’re scared of these things, and so am I. They need us, and now we need them. The second we hit Ruby, call in all the outposts except for our northernmost look-outs and the power station. They’ll join our caravan at first light when we roll out. Get everyone packing. I want everything loaded onto trucks. If we need more trailers, grab more trailers. Anyone that isn’t loading animals, food, or supplies needs to be making ammo.”
Brass turns and comes face to chest with the clown, and he must look up to meet the jester’s eyes.
Vida introduces him. “Brass, this is Brock. He’s one of the people that saved Gabe and me on the road. Can he ride with us?”
“Sure.” Brass is too burdened with thought to argue about having a stranger along. “That reminds me, Abby, any word on Lady Luck?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know? I’ve been with you.”
“Oh, right.”
“Brock could have saved her the trip, actually,” Vida attempts to brighten the gloomy mood that has come over Brass. “Eagle Rock fell to the dead. That isn’t the good news. Gabe’s family is down in Story Book Land! Brock got them and a bunch of others out.”
“That’s great!” Abby says.
“Maybe Double L found some more survivors and was able to clear out the armory,” Brass says. The news of Gabe’s son being alive is enough for him to have a glimmer of hope once again. But will it be enough, he wonders.
8
From the desolate setting of their roadside meeting, they cruise swiftly to Rubicon. As it passes the outposts, the Riviera sets a confident pace to make the trip as short as possible. Brass is silent for the first half, lost within his thoughts, planning the overwhelming task of packing everyone and everything. The undertaking needs to be perfectly orchestrated.
Welcome to Rubicon, a sign greets all entering the town that looks less than inviting with its war-torn, devastated buildings and cordoned off streets. They drive through the debris field that was once a thriving community to the center.
Brass leads them straight to the motor pool. Having called ahead, all gates and blockades are opened for him upon his approach so he doesn’t have to stop. He guides his old car one handed while chewing on his thumbnail. Lady Luck had touched down at some point since Brass left this morning to pick up his two outpost testers. She has Player 1 and Malcolm unloading cases and guns from her Blackhawk.
“Bad news,” she tells Brass.
“I was just thinking I could use some more bad news,” he says. “I know. Eagle Rock has fallen. Turns out Gabe’s family is with the military in Story Book Land.”
“Oh.” She shrugs and starts her debriefing. “No survivors at all, but the gates are open. The only dead are the ones trapped in the buildings. We found a mess hall that really lives up to the name. The armory was full. Someone had picked through it in a hurry, but we were able to pack out a lot of cool shit. One more
trip and we’ll have it all.”
“That’ll have to wait,” Brass hitches a thumb toward the guests that linger by their yellow Hummer.
“Who are they?”
“They’re from SBL. We’re heading there at first light. All of us and everything.”
“All right.” Lady Luck sighs, slicing a hand across her throat to stop her men from unloading. She requires no explanation, doesn’t ask for a reason. “One odd thing about our trip to the base. We noticed the map has changed. The Charles River has flooded. Its course looks like it’s been altered completely.”
“Did the dam break?” Brass says. “What’s it called?”
“Parsons Dam,” Oz says. “Yeah, it’s gone.”
“We were on it when it broke,” Carla adds.
“You were on it when it broke. The clown was at Eagle Rock when it fell,” Brass says. “Seems like bad things follow you people.”
“It does at that.” Oz nods.
“Well… 5,6,7,8, let’s get started,” Brass commences the pack out. “Abby, make the calls to the posts, then get the word out. I want every growing thing we have harvested and canned and the animals loaded for travel. As soon as you’re done, come back and help Lady Luck. Lady Luck, I need you to organize the vehicles. Your chopper will need to be packed onto a flatbed. Player 1, help Double L. Malcolm, help Abby.”
Brass looks at the group of new arrivals. “Who can run a forktruck?”
Oz and the soldiers raise their hands.
“You two.” Brass selects the quiet pair. “Load what you’re told, where you are told to load it. One of you is with Abby, the other will stick with Lady Luck. She’s a task master but she’s fun to look at. Draw straws or something.”
“I can do my own trucking,” Abby says.
“No, let someone else. You aren’t good at it.”
“I am so! I am a master of all motorized vehicles.”
“Except forktrucks. The rear wheel steering throws you off, buddy. Accept it.”
“You’re a child, Brass!” Abby heads off with his helper on his heels. “Just showing off in front of new people.”
Vida cautiously gets Brass’s attention. “Can Brock and I run and tell Gabe the good news?”
“Of course, sweetie.” Brass melts a little. “After, can you and Brock help with the children? Keep them calm and entertained?”
“I would be honored,” Brock answers for the both of them. The instant integration into the inner workings of the community is gratifying, like being allowed into a close-knit family and fitting in as if he’s always belonged.
“How about us?” Carla asks.
“Can you load shells?” Brass asks, while heading into the building through the back of the store.
“It was my hobby before our town was lost!”
The storage area takes Carla’s breath away: racks upon racks of guns, crates of ammo, tall boxes of components for making more ammo. She feels at home. “Fuck me, this is impressive.”
“Thanks,” Brass says. He locates a box and carries it to a wide table. From the trove, he removes handfuls of toy cars, trucks, and buses. He begins to set them out in columns, end to end. “It’s funny, in the world before I wasn’t much of a gun person. I believed in the right to have them. Just felt more control was needed over who did and who didn’t. Now we can’t live without them. They’re what cell phones used to be. Everyone has one whether they need it or not.”
“I never had much use for ’em myself before the dead,” Oz admits.
“You look at this collection. We found these lying around empty. Many we found on store racks or in armories, never fired. If there were enough firearms in our country to arm every man, woman, and child, how did we fall so fast?” Brass says. “It shouldn’t have been possible, yet all it took was one day and they had us outnumbered. Even with the daily average of natural deaths all rising, it shouldn’t have been possible.”
“We have a guy back at SBL who says he met the man partially responsible for this.” Oz watches Brass arrange his cars with care.
“Reliable source?” Brass asks without much interest.
“Not in the least. He says he met Freeman Wilkes that day…”
“Sounds familiar.” Brass pauses for a second upon hearing the name.
“Big shot in pharmaceuticals. I met him once. He made everything from cancer wonder drugs to diet pills. Wilkes told this man that a sample from space had accidentally been released into the air, and later discovered in the blood of everyone across the globe. This same sample was being used as a derivative for some of his drugs.”
“So perhaps with what caused this in the medicine, anyone on the medication may have suddenly died. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, overnight. I bet he didn’t disclose which ones. Not that it matters now, I guess,” Brass says as he lovingly lines a row of yellow school buses in the middle of his model convoy. “I don’t remember the commercials ever listing zombification among the adverse reactions and side effects.”
“No, that might have been helpful information. Could have been a flu shot for all we know,” Oz says. He doesn’t take medications himself, never gets the flu shot due to not liking needles, but at this point it’s all speculation. He agrees with what Brass had said about the likelihood of humanity dying off so swiftly. It shouldn’t have been so easy. They were on the losing side of this war before even knowing it was declared.
###
Vida rushes through town, dragging the clown by his hand as she searches for Gabe. Brock still receives some curious glances in Story Book Land, but since he arrived with Brass he’s just accepted.
They arrive at the trailer Vida shares with Gabe and she barges right through the door. He is startled by the sudden appearance and commotion.
“Gabe, do you remember…”
“Of course!” He extends a hand to shake the clown’s. “It’s Brock Rottom. What are you doing here?”
“I have good news. As you recall, I was on my way to Eagle Rock with my group, but the convoy was picked up and brought there,” the clown says. “Well, the fort fell to the dead in a massive panic of terror and--”
“Howard and Gloria are at Story Book Land!” Vida says, to save Gabe from the gory details.
“Really?” All day he’s been waiting to hear word on the mission to Eagle Rock, preparing himself for bad news. The relief that washes over him erases all the tension in his muscles
“Brock got them and a bunch of others out.”
“Thank you, Mister Rottom. You saved the day again.”
“I have more news,” Vida says. “There’s some sort of super zombie, a massive horde of them, like thousands, coming down from the north…”
“Brass has decided to evacuate to SBL, sir,” Brock says. “You’ll be seeing your family as soon as tomorrow.”
“We’re leaving Rubicon?”
“What’s on its way is too big to take a stand against,” Brock tells him. “For the good of all your people and ours, we need to unite.”
9
The citizens of Rubicon work into the night. They make bullets until they run out of places to store them, then they load trucks with food and supplies. Animals are corralled onto trucks and into trailers. The compact community transforms into a gypsy caravan and no one questions it, figuring there is a reason for the pack out. Brass asked his people not to go into detail, since a panic would just be counterproductive. Only those who refused to leave were told the whole truth.
Abby enters the armory behind the store and finds it weird to walk through the space of bare concrete that just hours ago was stocked to the rafters with munitions. Even the reloading equipment has been packed up. He looks for Brass, but all he finds is a train of matchbox cars set up to mirror their departure.
The line is end capped with small tanks, disproportionately smaller than the cars and buses. Mack trucks and Peterbilts flank the school buses that will contain the non-combatants. Armed vehicles will travel along the outside, like she
ep dogs protecting a flock. In the rear, just before the heavily armored caboose of artillery, is the double decker to oversee the exodus.
Staring down at the toys, Abby doesn’t hear Brass approach from behind. “How’s it look?”
“Shit, Brass! You startled me. Why are you sneaking around all creepily?”
“I’m not sneaking around. I went to grab more coffee. Is creepily even a word?”
“Yes, it is, as a matter of fact.”
“Sounds made up.”
“Since when are you a gramburglar?”
“I’m not a… Stop making up words!” Brass jokes. “It’s not like I’m correcting you, like when folks point out you forgot the first ‘R’ in February though no one ever pronounces it.”
“It’s Feb-ru-ary? Really?” Abby says.
“So, how does it look?”
“Good. Do you think we’ll make it down there before those things catch up?”
“I have no idea. No telling how long ago that footage was taken, or how long the choppers have been leading the super dead this way. Perhaps the things will get distracted, bank left, and run into the ocean like lemmings.”
“I’ve been wondering why the military doesn’t just bomb them.”
“Maybe that’s the next step. Bolster their food and firepower first, then eradicate the menace. All I care about is everyone getting there safely. Of course, the neighbors will talk. A movement of this size will either scare them too much to try anything, or it’ll be too tempting not to hit.”
Abby hadn’t thought of the living threat along the road beyond Harrington. Once they leave their jurisdiction, anything can happen. Something in Brass’s demeanor this evening strikes him as odd. “What’s up? You aren’t acting like yourself anymore.”
“Who am I being?”
“Normal. Usually your mood is all over the place, from one moment to the next. It’s weird to see you on an even keel.”
“Stress,” Brass offers as an explanation for his normality. “There comes a point when a man is under so much pressure that he just stops worrying. There’s nothing he hasn’t already contemplated, so he becomes numb.”
Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory Page 23
