“Where are you taking them?” Scarlet asked.
“I was thinking that farm on the outskirts of town would be a good spot.” he replied. “It had a long driveway, we’ll be able to get them away from town and keep the bodies out of the roads. It’s already a graveyard, no need to make another.”
“That’s very thoughtful.” she said. “But do you really think there’s enough people left to care? You think anyone else is ever going to travel down this road again before they’re nothing but scattered bones?”
Jessie said nothing. She had a point but he wasn’t so pessimistic. The world would rebuild someday and if a little gesture like keeping the streets clear of hundreds of rotting bodies helped in some small way, then he would do it. It didn’t cost him anything and the life he might save could be his own.
“I want to show you something.” she said. “Stop the car.”
Jessie did and she hopped out.
“What are you doing?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at the advancing horde. “No time for heroics, I know you can whoop their asses but why risk it? Besides, you’re riding in the trunk if you get yourself covered in zombie goo.”
She smiled at him again. “Go on, I’ll meet you at the farm.”
Jessie started to protest but she held up a hand. “Trust me, Mr. Meadows.” she said. “I want to show you something. I’ll be fine and I’ll see you in a few minutes. You get started, I’ll join you in a little bit.”
She took off across the parking lot of a Lutheran church, ignoring his shouts. The undead disregarded her and the first of them were reaching for the Mercury, trying to get to the meat that was inside. Bob was growling deep in his throat, giving them warning and the cat was spitting and hissing on the package tray, back arched, tail puffed.
Hands started clawing at the bars and Jessie let the clutch go, darting out ahead of them again. He tried to find Scarlet in the mirrors but she was gone. He smacked the steering wheel in frustration.
What the hell was wrong with her? Now he was going to have to use his car to start killing them. His tried and true method that worked every time was lead them away and pick them off with his Henry. Simple, easy, and the .22 lever action was fairly quiet. Now idiot girl was going to make him bash up his car and get it covered in stinking zombie blood. It was the quickest way to kill them so he could go help her, save her from whatever genius idea she had. If he spent the time to shoot them, did it the clean, easy and safe way, she might be shredded by then. She didn’t even have armor, just jeans and a t-shirt.
Jessie stopped, threw it in reverse and was getting ready to splatter a hundred shamblers. Getting ready to get his car dirty again after he’d spent hours washing it and digging rotting zombie parts out of the chassis.
Trust me, Mr. Meadows she’d said. Almost formally.
Did he trust her? His fingers tapped the wheel in aggravation. He finally dropped it back in first and led them to the farm. He made sure they knew he turned down the long drive then shot down it to park near the house. He let Bob out and told him to stay close. To watch his back since he didn’t have time to make sure the barn or house were clear.
“Girls.” he swore under his breath. “More trouble than their worth.”
He pulled his M-4 and started dropping bodies, frequently glancing over his shoulder to make sure nothing was sneaking up behind him or Bob didn’t wander off. He was in a hurry and the thirty round magazines made killing them a lot faster. He squeezed the trigger fast, tried to line up two or three heads at a time to speed the killing up. He had to finish this up and go find Scarlet. He was going to be pissed if she was eating all the King Dongs at the convenience store, leaving him to do all the work. He concentrated on shooting, not even registering their faces anymore, not even seeing them as things that used to be people. They were the enemy and needed to be eliminated. He was aiming for the outsiders, stacking the dead along the edges of the drive first, trying to keep it clear enough to get back out without running over corpses four deep. He was nearly finished with the unpleasant task when he saw someone carrying a large American flag on a pole turn into the drive. Jessie stopped shooting and stared. Scarlet was waving the flag like she was leading a marching band and spread out behind her were another hundred of the undead, following her meekly.
Jessie got over his initial shock and started pulling the trigger, shooting along the edges and picking them off fast. These looked much more preserved than the ones he’d been terminating. These were indoor, day one zombies. They would be fast and vicious and as soon as they smelled him, they’d start running. He didn’t think whatever power she held over them would work once they started their keening frenzied attack. She stopped in the middle of the drive and they stopped with her, they hadn’t sensed him yet. The bolt locked back and Jessie slapped in another magazine, sent bullets down range and picked off the ones farthest from her. She was crazy, trusting him to shoot all around but miss her, to walk among them and not get eaten.
A few of them were showing interest in the popping sounds of his gun and he targeted them. It was inevitable, though. One of them smelled him, locked in on his position and started sprinting for him, keening its dinner call. Scarlet let the flag drop and pulled her batons, started crushing heads from the back of the pack as all started running. Jessie couldn’t shoot anymore, the mob was a teeming mess and she was mixed in with them, killing as fast as she could. He couldn’t tell if they were turning to attack her, didn’t know if she was already bit. What had she been thinking? She had so much to learn about the real world.
He couldn’t use the car to ram them, she was in the middle of the pack. He ought to get in and lock the door, let her clean up her own mess then tell her to go get a bath, he’d meet her at the store.
But he couldn’t.
“C’mon Bob.” he said “It’s clobberin’ time.”
He zipped up his leather on the run, pulled the spiked knuckle dusters from their holsters under the pauldrons and tried to keep up with his shepherd. They met the keening, screeching horde head on, diving in with throat shredding, head busting gusto.
Blood sprayed.
Brains splattered.
Necks were snapped.
Eyeballs were popped.
Faces were obliterated.
Skulls were cracked.
The stench was nearly unbearable and all three of them were splashed and covered in gore. Rotting, snapping teeth tried to find flesh and were met with steel. Fingers clawed at them and were shattered. Hungry faces were torn completely away as Bob twisted, leapt and savaged them, ripping away rotting scalps and skin, leaving grinning skulls. The horde attacked, all of them trying to pull Jessie down, to get a bite of flesh, to spread the disease. He ducked and punched and stomped, back slashing with the knives, sinking spikes into faces. He moved rattlesnake fast but still barely kept his feet. He stumbled over fallen bodies, got his feet tangled in putrid ropes of intestines and barely, just barely avoided getting his eyes gouged out, his ear bitten off or filthy teeth sunk into his neck.
He was in over his head. There were too many of them. They came at him from all sides, leaping over each other to grab handfuls of his hair or bite at his legs. They were too fast and he had miscalculated how good he was. He no longer fought to save the idiot girl, he fought to save his own life and the gibbering monster in his head screamed in laughter at his stupidity.
He fought hard and desperate and choked down his fear, flashbacks of killing his friends came slamming into his head. He screamed right back at hungry mob, at their desperate, doughy faces. At their searching teeth and dead, black eyes. Their hands raked at him, pulled him in every direction, tried to dig through his leathers for the soft flesh beneath. He broke their bones, slashed and stabbed, smashed them away with head butts and kicked knees backward.
Scarlet spun her batons, smashing skulls with both hands every time she swung. The enhanced teenagers were fast, insanely fast, and it was over in minutes but for Jessie, it had lasted
a lifetime. He’d never taken on so many at once, not in hand to hand. They had nearly pulled him down, came close to sinking their filthy teeth into him. He hadn’t fought this hard or desperate since the trees outside of his school. He hadn’t been so close, so very close to finally getting bit as he had just been. This had been stupid. The girl wasn’t worth it. But by the grace of God, he could be going through the change right now, becoming one of them.
He pulled the spikes from a woman’s face as the last one fell and stood panting, hands on knees, trying to get his breath back, trying to tell the rage monster in his head to stop. Trying to get his fears under control. He was nearly gagging with the horrid stench and shoved her hand away when she reached out to touch him.
“That’s your surprise?” he said between breaths “You wanted to show me you could kill me anytime you wanted? You could make a horde attack me?”
“No.” she said, feeling mortified. “I didn’t realize…” she broke off and tried again. “I didn’t think it would be like that. I wanted to show you they don’t bother me, I thought you could shoot them all.”
“Probably could have if I wasn’t worried about hitting you.” Jessie retorted. “Who the hell hides in the middle of a frothing horde and expects somebody to kill them all? How dumb are you?”
“Sorry.” she said and looked down, at all the carnage.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back. She hadn’t asked him to jump in the fight. He probably should have just got in the car and let her pick them off. Or climbed up to the roof of the house and shot them. He mentally kicked himself for doing something so stupid. That was the second time he’d done something dumb because of her. The panic was subsiding, the terror of the battle fading. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit she hadn’t asked for help either time. Captain Hero Man jumped in of his own free will.
He tore a piece of shirt off a fallen man and wiped the gore from his blades and realized what they’d done really was pretty freaking amazing. They’d gone hand to hand with about a hundred of the undead and kicked their asses. Not moldy old deaders, either. A hundred day one zombies lay all around them. Nobody would believe it. Hell, he didn’t believe it and checked himself for bites.
It was a pretty cool trick she had, being able to move among them and not be attacked. He tried to wipe gore from his face, just smeared it around mostly. She looked dejected and was quiet for once. He knew he’d hurt her feelings.
“Ah, look.” he said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. You gave me a scare, that’s all.”
“It’s okay.” she said, still not looking at him, quietly cleaning her batons.
She started walking back toward the car, her head hung, her shoulders stooped and Jessie wondered why he felt bad when she’d been the one who nearly got him killed. He shook his head.
Girls.
67
Jessie
They cleaned up as much as they could in a trough half full of scummy water. It was green with algae but smelled better than zombie blood. Jessie kept his silence and scrubbed furiously at his arms and legs, wiping blood from his boots and blades.
“You can punish me.” she said “I deserve it.”
“Huh?” Jessie asked, annoyance in his voice. “That’s dumb. What’s done is done. No big deal. Just let me know if you have any more surprises up your sleeve.”
“But you’re still angry.” she said. “You really should.”
What the heck was she talking about? What kind of screwed up cult was she in? Or had been in. Or did she still think of herself as one of them?
“Are you serious?” he asked incredulously. “I’m not going to hurt you!”
“Yes.” she said, bending over the trough and wiggling her backside at him. “Spank me, I deserve it.”
Jessie looked up sharply, his annoyance gone and his shock at her words starting to fade. She smacked her butt and he caught the twinkle in her eyes, saw the curve of her smile she was trying to hide.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s fighting dirty.” he said. “I have every right to be pissed. You nearly got me killed.”
“Punish me.” she crooned, ran a hand over her breast and licked her lips. “Teach me the error of my ways.”
“Oh my God, you’re nuts.” Jessie said, his face turning red with embarrassment. “Stop it. I’m still mad at you.”
She could barely hide her smile and he knew she was just messing with him, trying to lighten the mood, trying to make peace. He leaned towards her, like he really might smack her across the booty but splashed her face with a handful of scummy water instead. He laughed at her scream of surprise and ran for the car, Bob bounding along beside him.
“You are the dirty fighter.” she said as she climbed in still miffed at him, still wiping the algae from her hair. “Big cheater.”
“Well, Mr. Big Cheater wants chocolate. Let’s hit up the gas station first. How did you do that, anyway? Can you control them with your mind or something?”
The town was just about empty now, even the houses and stores that had the dead trapped inside. She’d gone around to most of them, running from one to the next opening doors, and had led them to the farm. She explained while they refueled that the Pink, the injection she’d been given, made the dead think you were one of them. The cult realized they were docile and like sheep unless they were on the chase. They would follow a leader, something in their shriveled brains still gave them a mob mentality. They hardly ever attacked anyone who had the shot, although it wasn’t unheard of. Just rare.
Jessie finished his second candy bar and wound up the hose, both gas tanks full. They explored the town a little, poked through people’s private things as they looked for more clothes. Jessie had left all of his at the farmhouse and Scarlet had lost hers when she’d been shot off her motorcycle. At the little library she found a book about some guy that had paddled a canoe down the Mississippi river and added it to her backpack. Jessie was starting to wonder where she was going to cram all of her stuff. There was barely enough room for him and Bob in the car. She found riding leathers that fit when they discovered a couple of bikes in someone’s garage. The hardware store had a good chainsaw and a few spare chains for it. They skimmed the leaves off a backyard swimming pool, found some chlorine shocker in a shed and stirred it in. By late afternoon, they were enjoying the sun, floating on some inflatables and sipping warm Pina Coladas, complete with a little umbrella and slices of canned pineapple garnish. Bob was sniffing around the yard and Nefertiti surveyed her domain with haughty, half closed eyes from the deck railing.
They were near the headwaters of the Mississippi and Scarlet had a notebook she’d picked up at the dollar store. She was going to keep a journal, she said. Every road they ran, every town they cleared, every person they met. It would be a guide if anyone else ever wanted to visit any of the places they’d been. She was in an inflatable chair, her feet dangling in the water as she wrote.
“What’s the name of this town?” She asked
“Diligaf.” Jessie said lazily, eyes closed, enjoying the peacefulness.
“It is not.” she said, scowling at him. “I think it’s Blackduck. “How many zombies do you think we killed?”
“Four or five.” he said, the strong drinks making him sleepy and mellow.
She scowled again and he didn’t see it again. “You’re hopeless.” she said “How are we going to give accurate reports if you don’t take this seriously?”
“Nobody cares.” Jessie said. “They only want to know where other walled cities are and what they have to trade. I’ve killed a shit-ton of zombies but the guys on the trains have killed a lot more. What I do is nothing compared to them.”
“You sell yourself short.” she said. “People want to know. Don’t you ever listen to the radio when they talk about you?”
“No.” Jessie said. “As soon as Bastille and his stupid Road Angel reports come on, I turn it off.”
She stared at hi
m laying on the floatie. He had on a colorful pair of swim shorts, a foo foo drink as he called it, in his hand. His eyes were closed and he looked relaxed. He looked like any other too pale teenager on any given afternoon floating around in a pool in the backyard. Except his body was jagged and torn with old injuries, pockmarked with bullet wounds. Even in the pool, there was a pair of guns strapped around his waist and he had that terrible scar on his face. He was doing something no one else would, he had lived through things no one else could have lived through. He had single handedly killed more zombies, more bad guys than anyone else in the world and he was clueless. He had no idea how many people looked up to him. Idolized him. Owed their lives to him.
At first, she’d dismissed the news reports from Lakota as fake propaganda. Most of his so-called exploits were unbelievable and all the people that called in telling how he’d saved them were probably just a bunch of me-too types wanting attention. But she didn’t think that now. She’d seen how utterly ruthless and vicious he could be. He’d ripped a mans arm off and killed him with it. He’d gone toe to toe with a hundred of the undead and walked away pissed off because his jacket got bloody. He’d started a gun battle against thirty heavily armed men and lived to tell the tale.
He was clueless.
“Are you a virgin?” she asked, looking at him over her sunglasses
He spluttered, choked on his drink and nearly fell off his floatie.
“What the hell kind of question is that?” he asked
“Just a question I am curious about.” she answered matter of factly.
“You need to work on your people skills.” he grumped at her, not answering and getting comfortable again.
“Definitely a virgin.” she said and went back to her notebook.
“What are you writing?” he demanded. “Don’t be writing anything about me in there.”
“The people need to know” she smiled innocently. “what we are doing and what we have found on our journey. Mr. Bastille needs to know.”
Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus | Books 4-6 | Jessie+Scarlet Page 44
