The Zombie Plagues Dead Road: The Collected books.

by Geo Dell

  Cammy shook her head. “I know. He told me that he told you, and what he told you was the truth.” She smiled as she finished. Susan and Sandy slipped past them and walked over to the long waist high rock wall that had been built on the edge of the ledge. Beth looked pensive, but allowed a smile to float up from the depths of her worry. She made her way across the ledge and looked down into the valley.

  “It's so pretty,” Beth said. She breathed in the cool, fresh air.

  “You are officially off bed rest,” Sandy said.

  Beth smiled. Her eyes slipped over to her arm and the thick pad of bandage at the elbow. She sobered, but as her eyes swept back out into the valley, the smile surfaced once more and stayed. Cammy settled beside her and looked out onto the golden foliage of the trees and the tall golden-brown fields of wheat.

  “I will never leave here,” Cammy said.

  Beth nodded.

  Cammy looked at her. “Do you think this can hold him?”

  Beth shook her head, but the smile stayed. “I don't think a woman or a place can hold Bear,” She said.

  Cammy nodded, her face a careful mask.

  “Feel up to a short walk down there?” Sandy asked.

  “I say, let's go,” Beth answered.

  “You get tired, say so,” Susan told her.

  “She will,” Cammy said. She linked one arm through Beth’s good arm, and the four women started down the ledge that dropped down into the valley.

  On The Road

  Bear dropped to the ground across from Mike, reached over and handed him a hot cup of coffee. He leaned back against a tree trunk behind him and rolled a cigarette.

  “On our way?” Bear asked, after he had lit his smoke and taken a deep pull. He let the blue-gray smoke drift from his nose as he held Mike's eyes with his own.

  “Jessie's up to it.”

  Bear nodded.

  “What is it, Bear?” Mike asked. “What's on your mind?” It was the first time he had ever seen Bear looking uncertain.

  Bear shrugged. “A few things I guess. Like, what do you do to keep safe now? I mean, who does that? Are there patrols of some kind?” His eyes held Mike's own. “The thing is, I can not imagine life without drama.”

  Mike nodded. “You'll miss it, or you hope to never see it again?” He paused for a second. “We have a patrol. Small, but effective, I think.”

  “Hmm. Good question, isn't it? I don't know. I think for a short time I'll be glad not to have it, and then I think I'll start feeling tied down. I don't know if I want to be tied down again... ever.” He cleared his throat and then continued. “Have you considered a farther reaching patrol, like a patrol that comes out here, running for the stuff the Nation needs? You know, like making it a fulltime thing. Wouldn't that make sense? I'm talking about something close to a military outfit. We could fight the dead - that might have to happen - keep them away. There are Army bases just sitting around out here full of weapons. We could get them. We could keep roads open, a lot of things, Mike. I guess I sound kind of crazy, but I think some day the Nation will need it. It will need it, because there will be those who will bring it to us if we don't bring it to them.”

  Mike nodded. There was nothing he could say. Whatever Bear had meant, whatever he was alluding to in the first part of his statement about being tied down, was for himself alone. Mike did not understand it. The second part he did understand. It had been on his mind recently. “You volunteering? I mean, if there was such a thing.”

  “Yeah. I've thought about it. It feels like a place I could fit,” Bear agreed.

  Mike nodded. “We're going to call soon. We should be able to reach them, let them know we're coming, if you wanted to talk to Cammy.”

  Bear nodded. “I do, but I think I mislead you with that relationship. I meant to straighten that out, I just haven't found the time to do it. Cammy and I are not together. True, we've traveled together awhile, and we even thought about giving together a try. Didn't happen.” Bear took another deep pull from his cigarette.

  Mike nodded. “I guess I just assumed.”

  “Yeah. We're both bad with that. We, neither one, want to say it out. My fault, not yours. But, well, I thought it should be said. I'll need a place to stay... on my own. Cammy will... I don't know what Cammy will do, but I'm sure she will not be with me. And the other... the other thing is, well, she wouldn't be waiting for me or something... if that worried you, as far as sending me out.”

  Mike nodded. “Alone then. I see,” he said.

  Bear seemed to think. “Maybe not alone, alone.”

  Mike raised his eyebrows. “She may change her mind?”

  Bear laughed. “No. We talked it over. I meant, well, maybe Beth will be there.”

  “Beth?”

  Bear nodded, seemed embarrassed. He took a deep pull from the cigarette, crushed it out against the sole of his boot and then looked up at Mike.

  Mike grinned.

  “What?” Bear asked.

  “Nothing, except, I can see it. I can see the two of you together. It fits.” He laughed for a second and then his eyes turned serious. “You mean she would be okay with you doing it? I don't mean a person has a right to tell another what to do. I mean, well, couples... you let each other know what the deal is.”

  Bear looked even more embarrassed for a moment and then laughed too. “She'd probably want to come. Maybe not right away, but, well, we're a lot alike. I'd like to talk to Beth, Cammy too, when you call. I've been worried.”

  Mike stood, offered his hand and pulled Bear from the ground with a grunt.

  “You need more lead in your ass,” Bear joked.

  “Or cast iron,” Mike joked back. They both laughed. “Come on,” Mike said after a moment. “Let's go find Tim.”

  The Nation

  The valley was bright gold in the evening light. The small stream a red-gold thread on the bottom of the valley. The mixed herd of Buffalo and Cows, along with the few Beefalo calves that had been born, were working their way to the barn, grazing on the sweet grass that grew next to the stream as they came.

  Sandy stood with Susan and watched. Her eyes were red rimmed, and Susan held one hand tight. Neither woman spoke.

  BACK TO THE BEGINNING

  Out of L.A.: The Story of Billy and Beth

  CHAPTER ONE

  March 1st 12:06 am.

  L.A.

  Billy Jingo & Beth

  Billy knocked back the tequila and waved off Beth as she motioned to the back bar for another. She came over smiling.

  “A man that knows when to quit. I like that,” Beth said.

  Billy laughed. “A recently acquired habit, I assure you. Shit will bite you if you don't set your limits,” He smiled at her, hesitated and then spoke again. “So it's almost over for tonight... Thought you would be singing?” He raised his voice at the end to make it into a question. He knew it was what she wanted. He had heard her sing, there wasn't an act in the place that could hang with her. She was it, except something wasn't clicking between her and Jimmy, or maybe it went all the way up the ladder to Harry. Whatever it was Billy was curious about it.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” Beth said with a wide smile as if reading his thoughts.

  “Damn,” Billy said. “It's as if...”

  “I read your thoughts?” She laughed. It's been written all over your face since you came in. I saw you looking at the stage, back at me, back to the stage. It's not hard to figure it out.”

  “Hey, it's not like I'm some wacko fan, Beth. I just think you are way to good for...”

  “If you say it I'll smack you stupid,” Beth told him. Her eyes were slitted, narrowed and focused. Her right hand had doubled into a fist. Billy had no doubt she meant what she said.

  “Peace,” Billy said.

  “Not that it really matters,” Beth said with a sigh. “Jimmy knows, and that means Harry knows, and they don't care... That's not it. I'd feel for the lame ass that came in here if I was doing a set and had anything to say
about my time on the streets... We've all been there... At least the interesting ones.”

  Billy nodded. “So what is it?”

  Beth shrugged. “I don't know, but I'm hoping Harry will be around later on and I...”

  “Hey... Baby, what the fuck with the drink?” A big guy, belly straining at the buttons of his shirt. He smiled but the smile was no more than a rough semblance of a smile. Billy tried to burn him with his eyes, but Beth reached nearly into his face and said. “So you're done here?”

  Her eyes said don't, he didn't, but he would have liked to say something to the guy. Instead, he nodded a yes and picked up the change she had laid on the bar. She was talking to the fat guy before he got his change in his pocket.

  “See that big guy over by the door,” she asked nicely.

  Billy watched the fat guy turn to the door and then back to Beth. “Yeah?” The guy said. There was a sarcastic edge to his voice that made Billy slow down. He wanted to see the outcome.

  Don, the big guy on the door had that bouncer six sense and looked over at Beth and shrugged as if to ask is there a problem. She rolled her eyes, and Don left the door and headed for the bar.

  “I told you no more,” Beth told the guy.

  “And I said I don't take no orders from no bitch,” The fat guy said. He puffed up, but a line of sweat trickled from under his too black hair and streaked his forehead with whatever he had sprayed on his hair to get the color. He swiped at it angrily. And began to bluster a little more when Don's heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

  “And I missed my workout today,” Don told him as he easily spun him around, “unless you're it?” Don finished.

  “This is a private matter,” The fat guy told him, but there was a quiver in his voice that Billy heard clearly.

  “Tried to grab Jill's breast when she went past him. Jill laughed it off, said he'd been a perfect gentleman all the rest of the night. I said cool, a little fuck up, he's had too much to drink and so I cut him off.”

  Gentleman was a code word for a creep that had been hanging around getting way too friendly with the dancers.

  “That so,” Don asked. He had stepped back to give himself some room just in case things took a physical turn.

  The guy noted the movement and then he set his empty glass on the bar and put his hands in front of him, palms up. “No interest in trouble at all,” he told Don.

  Don nodded at the door. “Time to go home and sleep it off, I think,” Don told him.

  Billy watched the guy walk to the door and leave. He looked back to see Don and Beth looking at him.

  “You know, this guy is becoming a pain in the ass,” Beth told Don.

  “Ha, ha,” Billy said.

  “Beat it Jingo. Leave the honey alone. It's off limits. In other words you ain't getting none of it.” Billy watched the cloud come over Beth just that fast. She had been teasing, Don probably knew that, but Don had a thing for her and he hated Billy who sometimes did small things for Harry. He didn't wait for Billy to leave but headed back to the door, opened it quickly and looked out into the lot.

  “Probably making sure the guy ain't fucking up his car,” Billy said under his breath.

  “Sorry, Billy. I keep forgetting Don isn't human,” Beth told him. That made Billy laugh.

  “Anyway, I'll see you around. I'll be late tonight.”

  Billy nodded. “Good luck, Beth.” He turned and walked to the door at the other end of the club. The one that let out onto the front sidewalk.

  ~

  The night was beautiful, Billy thought as he walked along Beechwood Avenue. He knew pretty much everyone he passed. He had been here for a little over six months having made his way up from Mexico when things had gone bad for him there. Technically he was on the run. Warrants out of New York. Somebody had put two and two together and dug up some prints from a crime Billy had been involved with. He had only found out about it because he had happened to be away from the house when the Feds showed up. His neck of the woods had no municipal police, but even if it had they wouldn't have come with shotguns and armor.

  He had hid out for three days until the word had trickled down to him that it was him they were looking for to hand over to some federal agents from the U.S. It hadn't taken much to put two and two together. He had managed to get a beat up old Ford pickup truck and then filled-fifty five gallon drums full of gasoline that rode on the back of it. He set off into the desert.

  The rest had been easier. Despite the laws and the changes in the U.S. It was pretty easy to disappear here. He had come with a little money, and that had helped. He had worked a series of meaningless jobs as he worked his way up the west coast. Seattle had looked good and so it had held him. That and Beth had come along.

  Beth was out of reach and he knew it, but that didn't stop the fact that he wanted her to be in reach. He had never met a woman like her. So he had stayed. He had watched her arrival from God knew where, some other place in California or Washington probably. He had watched her struggle to survive on the streets: Watched her work those same streets, doing her act in any place she could get into by day, walking the streets by night, and it was then he had seen something else in her. Something hard, some will he himself had that was hard to define, but that hardness in her pulled him to her like a magnet. It was that simple.

  He had been working for Harry by then and so he had mentioned Beth to him. He didn't know how the details had worked out, but a few weeks later when he had noticed she had disappeared from the avenue, he had found her tending bar at Harry's Palace.

  Now, as he walked he became immune to the world around him. He never heard Don until he was on him, had spun him around and dragged him into an alley.

  “Hey... Hey! Don... What the fuck, Don... Hey!” But it did no good. The first punch nearly shut him down. The second did. The rest he never knew about.

  Seattle Washington

  Bobby

  The wind kicked up along Beechwood Avenue in Seattle's red light district. A paper bag went rolling along the cracked sidewalk: Skipping over Bobby's feet where he stood watching the traffic. Money, he thought, if he could get a little money he could be okay. It didn't have to be a million dollars, just... A few hundred, he decided. A few hundred could really fix him up right... There had to be a way.

  He watched the cars slide by and tried to work it out in his head. The problem was he was too far off the edge of down. He needed to be more up, high, wasted to think straight. The brain just didn't work without the sauce. He needed some good shit, and for that he needed some money. Just enough to get enough good shit to get a good high tonight and maybe a good high tomorrow when it all wore off and the jingle jangles set in? … Maybe, he decided. Maybe. Bobby turned away from watching the cars as the paper bag bounded over his feet and tumbled along the avenue. The diner down the block was calling. Sometimes he had scored in the parking lot, there were truckers, creeps, who knew, but they were in this area for one thing and it wasn't the food. All he had to do was find the right guy and he'd be set. He looked once more at the traffic and then turned and walked off toward the diner.

  New York: Rochester

  John Simons

  The sidewalks below him were crowded. John stood at the apex of the steps that led up to the old court house. It was impressive. He looked down at his hands, shifting the small silver canister from hand to hand, rolling it across his palm, treating it as though it were just a small fascination to occupy his mind, when in fact he knew it was something more. He didn't know what, exactly. He wasn't paid to know what. Maybe someone up the ladder knew what, he didn't, and it was likely he never would, but it was something more than just a shiny little object to occupy his mind.

  He had done hundreds of these small jobs. Little things. Little things that probably meant nothing in the scheme of things, at least that's what he had always told himself. A little mental salve to prevent an infection of the larger truth. Little things he never heard a single thing about later on. Little things, bu
t he suspected this time, this job was not a little thing at all. He suspected this was a big thing. He suspected he would hear about this one down the road. He suspected this one would come back to bite him in the ass.

  The trouble was, in for a penny, in for a pound. It all mattered. He had taken job after job where he might leave an item on a park bench. Drop off a set of wheels in the middle of the desert. Switch a suitcase at an airport. Little jobs. Little jobs and he had never said no. Never complained about them. Never turned one down. And so here he was about to press the activator on a small, silver canister that might do anything. Anything at all. And was he worried about that? Yes, he was.

  It was not so much worry for himself. He didn't really believe the thing would blow up. He didn't truly think they would take him out that way, if there was ever a reason to take him out, that was. He quickly shut down that line of thought. He had too much to worry about right now without starting a whole new avenue of doubt.

  So, no, he did not believe it would blow up. He believed it would hiss and release a giant cloud of some sort of toxic gas, gases even, he amended. Waste, poison, something, but, if that were the case, how could he safely set it off and not be contaminated himself?

  The instructions were to walk to the top of the courthouse steps, depress the red button, and then toss it away. No specific direction, just away. It apparently didn't matter. And, he thought now, wasn't this exactly the way some terrorist would do it? Do an attack? A poison gas attack? An unclassified viral attack? He had seen a few movies, this was the way he would do it if he was writing the script. The girl beside him spoke.

  “If this is going to take much longer you're gonna have to pay more. I know I said it would be cool, a fifty, I mean, but standing around here is wasting my time. I got places to be. I got...”

  He cut her off. “And you ain't got no money yet. And if you do want the money then you need to shut the fuck up.” He went back to his self observation. A second later he looked back at her. “Hey, hey,” he soothed. She had begun to pout. Just another street girl with a habit and too much time on her hands to feed it.