by Damon Novak
“I’m already tired of this outing,” sighed Georgina.
“Can’t go back now,” I said. “We’ve come too far.”
She nodded. “How do you want to do this?”
I searched the parkin’ lot for a nice rock. I didn’t want to fire my gun with the horde as close as they were. No rock, but I did find some loose bricks arranged around a planter. I grabbed one and showed it to Georgie.
She just stared at me.
I felt a need to explain. “Okay, we’ll wait until he comes at the door again, then be ready. I’ll yank it open fast and when he comes stumblin’ out, you trip him and bash his head in with this brick.”
She folded her arms. “Or you can just rush in and bash his head in with the brick,” she said.
“And I’m doin’ the bashin’ because?” I asked.
“Hippocratic Oath,” she said. “Do no harm. Now, go get ‘em, cowboy.”
I turned and shook my head. “Re-write. Now the new oath is just Harm.” I went to use my brick.
Ω
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Climbing Fox Wattana
Henomawi Indian Reservation
Wattana tried to ignore the scraping and slapping at the outside of his house. He knew what they were, and now faced the horrifying reality that he had created them.
If he had any courage, he’d just open the door and let them kill him. But one thing he’d learned as he watched Dancing Rain die in front of him; he was a coward.
A coward who had doomed his own people in a fit of revenge, driven by hubris and doubt.
Yes, he thought. Doubt is what led me to do it. I never believed the ceremony would do anything.
Of course, he’d been raised to believe in the gods and in the power of the spirits, as all Henomawi had. However, with the passage of time, advancing technology and the encroaching influences of the outside world, many of his people had begun to doubt the legitimacy of the old ways and beliefs.
As had he.
Wattana crept around the corner, the old text in his hands, making sure the blinds were drawn so that he would not draw their attention. He put the book on the kitchen table and slid open a drawer, removing a candle.
Lighting the candle, he placed it in a holder in the center of the table. The soft glow should not attract them.
Opening the book to the incantation he had used at the fateful ceremony, he read the words again. When he went through them a second, and a third time, he noticed something.
Writing. Faded, and in red ink. He looked at the words, digging deep in his memory. What did they mean?
Then, it struck him. He carefully turned all of the pages, coming to the end of the book. There, in the same red ink, was a paragraph.
It was not the language with which he was familiar; it was not Henomawan. There were two separate paragraphs, each scrawled in a shaky script, and Climbing Fox did not recognize even one of the elaborate symbols.
His cell phone rang in his pocket. Wattana quickly closed the book as though leaving it open may unleash a new curse, perhaps worse than the one he had brought to bare.
Pulling the phone out, he saw it was Magi Silver Bolt. He slid the button to accept the call, and before he got it to his ear, he heard, “Mundunugu! It’s Magi! Have you seen Anji?”
Wattana’s head felt cloudy. He dug in his memory. “Anji?” he asked.
“Anjeni! Dancing Rain! I can’t find her anywhere! Is she there?”
The younger people disrespected the Henomawi traditions by shortening their names to sound more like American names, and it always irritated him. Now he didn’t care; he just wanted them all to be alive.
“I have not seen her,” he lied. “You say you could not find her. Have you gone outside?”
“Yes! It’s dangerous, Mundunugu. The skinwalkers are everywhere. When I left my house this morning, I did not see them, so I got on my bicycle to ride to her house. I would have taken my car, but the noise draws them, so I –”
“She is probably in her house, hiding. How did you get through?”
“I’m sorry, Mundunugu. What do you mean?”
“On the cell phone! How did you get through? They have not been working!”
“I don’t know! I didn’t think of it. I just couldn’t find her, and I decided to call you to –”
“Do not come here. The creatures are outside my home and I am trapped here. I am trying to find a way to reverse what I have done.”
In a low voice, Magi said, “They move together, Mundunugu. When I was out, I saw one stumbling down Sequoyah Street, so I stayed on the sidewalk and followed him. When I reached the corner by the tire store, I stopped and peeked around the corner. There had to have been a hundred or more!”
“You did not see Dancing Rain among them?” asked Mundunugu, knowing the answer.
“No. I watched for as long as I felt safe, but they began to move toward where I was hiding, so I hurried back home.”
Silver Bolt hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Why would I ask if she was at your house if I had seen her there? Is everything okay, Mundunugu?”
Ignoring his question, Wattana said, “I am going through the texts now. I have found something in the back, but I do not recognize the language. It is referenced by a small marking in the middle of the ceremonial text I used.”
“I may be familiar with the language,” he said. “You’re sure it’s not Henomawi?”
“Positive,” said Wattana, irritated at being questioned in such a manner. “I do not recognize it.”
“Can you take a picture of it and text it to me?”
Magi was excellent with languages, and Henomawi and English were not his only skills. Wattana did not know how many languages he spoke, but there was a chance he knew this one.
“I think so. Hang up and I will try to send it.”
“Okay. Mundunugu, if you see Dancing Rain, bring her in and make her stay there, okay? I’m so afraid something has already happened to her.”
“Of course, I will. As I would do for any of my people.”
“Thank you, Mundunugu.”
“I’ll send the text right away.”
He disconnected the call, crying as he held the camera over the book, took the photograph, and attached it to a text. He hit the SEND button.
Having done so, he moved to the bed again and sat on the edge of the mattress, wishing he could drown out the sounds of the skinwalkers outside his home.
He wanted so desperately to appeal to the gods, but he refrained. Climbing Fox Wattana no longer believed it wise to pray to spirits that could unleash such evil on the world.
Ω
Florida Panhandle
We left the dead rotter layin’ just inside the door, which had been unlocked. The brick was highly effective; so much so, I had to choke down puke the minute it cracked the guy’s skull.
Seemed wrong somehow, killin’ a dude in CVS, when people come in there to buy stuff made to heal things.
The door was a pull, so I was a little surprised the dead guy hadn’t found his way out, just by accident. They did tend to crash into glass, bein’ clear and all. I was confused about the ones trapped in cars at first, wonderin’ why they just slammed their faces into the glass, but then it hit me.
Like glass in the face.
They can’t see the shit with their cloudy eyes and figure they’re movin’ in for a bite. Like me and my buds used to say: Psych!
The door pushin’ outward from inside probably explained why we didn’t run into another soul, dead, alive, or both, inside the store. Any other sick customers or employees that had been there must’ve shambled their way around the inside perimeter and when the door opened, they kept walkin’.
It’s what they fuckin’ do, right?
“I’m going to grab some of those cloth shopping bags and fill them with antibiotics and pain meds,” said Georgina. “I’ll top it off with gauze, Band-Aids, ace bandages, topical ointments, and other things. Lots of anti-bacterial hand cle
aner, too.”
“You sound like a damn doctor,” I said. “Get Tylenol, too. And don’t forget the Xanax. Things get nuts, we might all need that.”
“I plan to take all they have of everything we may need. That includes condoms and birth control. I can’t see any one of us dealing with a pregnancy in this world.”
“Cood call,” I said. “You’re a thinker.”
Georgie smiled. “Luckily, there’s a pharmacy on every corner in Florida, so I’m not worried about leaving someone else in the lurch.”
“Yeah, get cholesterol meds for sure. I take ‘em. Simvastatin, Pravastatin, whatever. They’ve switched me around a couple times.”
“You take baby aspirin every day?” asked Georgie.
“I was, until this. Just as a precaution.”
“We’ll load up on that, too,” said Georgina. “Do you know what medications Danny and your sister take?”
I shook my head. “Danny doesn’t take anything so far as I know. As for Lilly, we’ve really never talked about it. I know she’s called in some prescriptions in the shop before, but I never listened. We tend to mind our own.”
“I’ll bet she could name your medications.”
“Bet you’re right.”
“I’ll just get the most common things people take.”
“Sounds good,” I said. Then: “Hell, wait a minute. We’re bein’ stupid. Let me just radio and ask her.” I grabbed the radio off my belt, preparin’ to call, but then somethin’ in the background perked my ears.
A sound slowly increased in volume, and to me it sounded like static. I held my hand up. “Georgie, you hear that?”
She was still for a few moments. “It sounds like a hundred straw brooms sweeping over asphalt.”
“Oh, shit,” I whispered. I moved over to the door, crouched down, and looked through. The giant horde had reached the bend in the road and were now pourin’ down Beal Street. The hiss-scrape sound that Georgie had likened to the sound of a broom sweeping was actually dragging limbs.
Watchin’ them pass, it struck me they moved like a lava flow. It was because they moved steadily, and they were damned sure unstoppable. And like molten lava, they would destroy anything in their path.
Now, you know me and gators go way back; I’d been watchin’ their behavior and harvestin’ the prehistoric bastards since the Bee Gees were popular, or thereabouts.
These dangerous crocodillians didn’t notice the staggerin’ dead men, women and children beside ‘em. Might as well’ve been other gators. Once in a while one of the rotters would step on the gator and tumble to the ground, trippin’ others behind ‘em.
It was kinda nice nobody yelled at anyone when that happened. Maybe the zombie world was the most compatible world. The end of arguing and fighting over stuff. They all dropped down on a single corpse and ate until the food was gone, then moved on. I didn’t recall ever seein’ one of ‘em push another, at least on purpose.
Ironic as hell. We have to die before we can play nice.
“Are we good?” asked Georgie, and I turned.
“Yeah, sorry. Got a little mesmerized by ‘em.”
“Are they moving by us?”
“Slowly but surely,” I said in an instinctive whisper. “Good call comin’ in here. You go on and hit the pharmacy. Since Lil and Danny are doin’ the food thing, I’ll focus on apocalypse essentials. Batteries, lights, portable radios, anything else I can think of.”
She walked up to me and stared into my eyes. “Let’s find a car and drive back, okay? In fact, might be best to get the car before we go to the gun shop.”
I held up a finger. That means I had an idea.
I walked over to brickhead and knelt down, reachin’ for his pockets. “What are you doing?”
I looked up at Georgie and saw her face all scrunched up. I had to laugh. “I’m checkin’ for keys.”
“Oh!” she said. “Good idea.”
I felt a lump in his left pocket, and pulled the jean pocket outward to slide my hand in. They were keys. I plucked them out and saw there was a Toyota key fob.
“I’m bettin’ it’s that red pickup out there,” I said. “Get movin’. Now we can haul whatever we want.”
We didn’t hurry with the herd of deadheads workin’ their way past us, but we didn’t dawdle either, and I know my gun hand was twitchin’ with every out-of-place noise I heard.
When all was said and done, we had about eight bags stuffed with shit to carry to the truck.
“That was exhilarating!” said Georgina. “I’ve never stolen anything before.”
“I know,” I said. “Feels like it, huh? Shit would go bad if nobody took it.”
“I found something interesting back there. Sample packs of dicarba insulin. I first heard about it around 2010, but it was developed by a Monash University chemist. It was just in FDA approval the last I heard.”
“What’s special about it?” I asked.
“It survives heat for several years. It doesn’t need refrigeration.”
“How much did you get?”
“There were twenty packs. I took them all. Nobody’s mentioned diabetes, but we still may encounter someone who could benefit from it.”
I looked outside and said, “In a world like this one, somethin’ like that could even serve as currency.”
She didn’t say anything. I looked at her. “What?”
“I wouldn’t ever hold medicine hostage in a barter, Cole.”
I thought about it for a sec. She was right. “That’s a good point. I know you wouldn’t.”
The street was mostly empty now. The enormous horde had moved passed us, and only stragglers and draggers passed now. I keyed my radio, but still spoke low. “Danny? Lil?”
A second or two passed, and Danny came on. “Yeah, CB. What’s up?”
“You know what Rode said about clusterin’?”
“You mean the zombies?”
“No, fuckin’ peanuts.”
“Peanut clusters?”
“Yeah, the zombies. Must’ve been a couple hundred passed us just now, headin’ south.”
“Y’all safe?”
“Yeah, inside a CVS. Got a bunch of bandages, meds, batteries, good stuff. Anyone there need any specific meds before we get outta here?”
“Hold on a sec.”
I held on.
He came back on. “Lil says get some Pravastatin or Simvastatin. Any cholesterol stuff. I’m good, and so is everyone else.”
“Just keep your eyes open, then.”
“Thanks for the heads up. We’re makin’ a good haul, too. Got some good fishin’ gear at the bait shop. We hit the Dollar General instead of the Publix. Easier to clear. Had to take out four of those nasty things.”
“You both alright? We only had one in the pharmacy,” I said.
“We’re good,” said Danny. “How long you gonna be?”
“We still gotta hit the gun shop, so maybe an hour, maybe less. Depends on whether the Toyota pickup in the parkin’ lot starts up.”
“Should we hang out?”
“No, y’all head back to the skiff if you want. Make a run back to the boat.”
“Good call. Sounds like you’ll have a good load, too. We’ll do that.”
“Be safe. Talk at ya later.”
I clipped the radio back on my belt and went to the door, steppin’ around brickhead again. I pushed the door open slightly and leaned out.
The horde was completely out of view, and like a static-charged cloth, they seemed to have picked up every random deadhead along the way; the streets were clear, save for what I’d come to notice more and more; tufts of hair.
The hair, which I’m pretty sure was fallin’ out of thousands of zombie heads, seemed to blow together and cling, makin’ bigger and bigger balls. Almost everywhere you looked, they rolled down the streets like tumbleweeds in an old western movie.
The more I thought about it, the more disgustin’ it was.
I pushed it outta my head and g
rabbed four of the bags, threadin’ my arm through the handles. “I’m gonna see if that Toyota will start.”
“Don’t you want to wait until you try it before taking that stuff?”
“This is what you call positive thinkin’,” I said, pushin’ outside. I was relieved to see Georgie move to the door, pull out her pistol, and scan in all directions.
She was lookin’ out for me, and it was becomin’ second nature. That made me feel better.
The pickup was parked right at the front curb, just about fifteen feet from the door. I hustled down the sidewalk and jumped off the curb next to the red truck.
Settin’ the bags in the bed, I decided not to use the remote, to avoid any double-chirps when it unlocked. I put the key in and unlocked it, then pulled the door open.
Once inside, I put the key into the ignition. When I turned it, the fuel gauge jumped to a half-tank, and all the dash lights came on bright. I didn’t bother turnin’ the motor. Toyotas were known to be dependable, and this one was maybe six, seven years old. That’s infancy for a Toyota.
I got back out, leavin’ the door open, runnin’ for the pharmacy.
“Okay, good to go. Let’s pack.”
“That’s great.”
Together, we had the truck loaded up in under five minutes, leaving room for whatever we grabbed at the gun shop. When we were all done, we both sat in the extended cab and I looked over at her. “Wish us luck.”
She smiled and wiped a stragglin’ lock of hair away from her eyes. “Luck to us,” she said.
Oh, I read a lot more into that than there probably was. I turned the key all the way.
I swear, the starter barely cranked when that motor fired and settled into a smooth idle.
“Thank you,” I said to myself, then pulled the shifter down into reverse. I cranked the wheel and drove out the rear driveway, turnin’ east onto Mar Walt Drive.
“Make your next left,” said Georgie.
The street was clearly in a depressed neighborhood, with flat-roofed, cinderblock homes that looked to be in major disrepair. The grass was growing out of control everywhere, makin’ the whole world look abandoned.
