by Thomas Baker
Harold turned and left. He wasn't going to get into an argument right now. The little blue pills weren't helping. It felt like his head was going to split open and all of his thoughts and secrets were going to spill out, for the world to see.
He heard JT call for him, anger rising in his voice. "Wait, Harold. We need to talk about this. Don't walk away from me!"
Harold went back inside, oblivious to JT's rising voice.
JT threw his mallet on the ground in disgust. He felt like ripping his tent out of the ground. He felt a hand on his shoulder. JT turned and just about took a swing, he was that angry.
It was Thomas. "Man, what were you thinking sneaking up on me like that? If I had a gun I would have blown your fucking head off!" JT huffed.
"I called out your name over and over, but it was like talking to a brick wall," Thomas said, taking a few nervous steps back.
"Sorry," JT said, willing himself to relax. It wasn't Thomas who pissed him off. Not yet. "What's up, what do you want?"
"I was out here...I wasn't trying to eavesdrop...but I heard what Harold said to you. He's said something like that to me a few times, but never that aggressively. If I were you, I'd do it." Thomas stopped, licked his lips and looked around. "I don't think Harold spends much time on the reservation, if you know what I mean."
"Really?" JT had already began to have his suspicions about that, after the shooting incident. "You think he would go so far as to threaten us with violence to get us to leave?"
"I have seen him do some things...scary things. I would have already left but...anyway I'm strongly suggesting you should all go. When you do, I want to come with you."
JT looked at Thomas. Thomas fidgeted with his hands and pleaded with his eyes. JT saw the mute panic on his face and for the first time was really worried about Harold. Is this what Dusty felt like all the time?
"It was safe here from the zombies, as safe as anyplace I've been to. It would be a tough sell to get the others to leave. Besides, Harold was only one guy. We outnumber him. Would he be stupid enough to attack all of us?"
Thomas chuckled nervously. "He's a smart guy. That's part of the problem."
That's a weird statement.
"I will think on it man." JT decided he would take what Thomas was saying seriously.
"Alright," Thomas said, disappointed. "Don't think on it too long though. It might already be too late."
JT spent the next day trying to corner Harold. Each time Harold shrugged him off, JT got more annoyed and frustrated. On the second day, JT wanted to find Harold so he could beat some sense into him. It was like trying to catch a buttered pig. Most of the time, he couldn't even find Harold. When he did, Harold would slip away before JT could corner him. Dark clouds must have been following JT around those days as the others, even Hannah, kept their distance from him. JT was out in his tent, stewing and wishing he had his iPod and headphones, when out of the blue, Harold popped his head in.
"JT, tonight I thought it would be nice if we had a nice dinner. See if we can't work something out." Harold was cheerier than JT had ever seen him."I've already told everyone else. I had a hard time finding you. See you later."
Harold popped back out without waiting for an answer. JT was stunned. Was Harold fucking with him? He guessed he would find out tonight.
There was a dinner and everyone was there, even Alan. As it started JT began to get a little nervous. He hadn't brought up Harold's' demands with anyone else. The only person who knew about the incident was Thomas. Would they be pissed if Harold suddenly blurted out they all were to leave and JT never told any of them about it?
Just about everyone at the table burst out laughing, at what JT could only guess was another off color joke by Gus. Guess I better start paying attention.
"I know, I know, favorite musical group or person," Tyrone said, all but bouncing in his chair. "You go first Harold."
JT looked at Harold. Harold looked at Tyrone with a strange glare in his eyes. JT noticed that Harold had sat himself between Hannah and Ashley. He was sitting really close to Ashley too. Any closer and he might as well of had her sitting on his lap. He could see Ashley was starting to get that annoyed look on her face. I hope this dinner doesn't turn into another bad idea.
"I don't listen to music much. If you want to know, I guess I would go with Elvis. His gospels are divine," Harold said, without much conviction.
"OK...how about you, my lovely Ashley?" Tyrone winked.
"One Direction," Ashley said proudly.
JT tried to hold in his snickering. Of course it would be. He wasn't very successful because Ashley shot him a dirty look, then tried to shift in her chair a little farther away from Harold. Harold tried to make his face a mask of calmness, but JT could see the anger seeping through it. Directed at Tyrone. The more this dinner went on the more JT thought maybe they should pack up and go. Thomas and Dusty could be right about this guy. Maybe it was no safer here.
"Gus?"
"Johnny Cash, the man in black," Gus answered, in between mouthfuls.
"Jokester like you Gus, I thought it might have been Alvin and the Chipmunks," JT poked.
That raised a double middle finger salute from Gus. They both laughed.
"All right, for myself I have to go with Michael Jackson," Tyrone said. "The other king. No offense Harold."
Harold just gave Tyrone a cold smile. Tyrone didn't seem to notice, he just went on.
"Mike my man, what about you?"
"I really like Queen," Mike said, folding his hands together, forming a triangle. "It's hard to choose though, so much great music, or there was anyway. Most of my listening depends on the type of mood I'm in."
"Fair enough," Tyrone said. "Thomas?"
"I would say Mr. Hank Williams Jr. He was with me on a lot of long, open roads," Thomas said, adjusting his trucker cap. "Like him, I've been everywhere."
"Hannah?" Tyrone pointed.
"I don't know," Hannah sighed. "Music was always just something in the background to me. If I had to pick, I guess I'd say Taylor Swift."
"Taylor Swift?!" JT burst out before he could stop himself. That got him an elbow in the ribs.
"First my movie then my music. I'm not sure how much I like you anymore, Mr. JT."
"Watch out there boy, you are treading on thin ice," Gus chided.
"What about you, big bad JT?" Tyrone cocked his fingers like a gun. "I have a feeling I might know the answer."
"Easy, it's Metallica," JT said without hesitation.
"I knew it!" Tyrone said. "We got a headbanger! How about you Dusty my man?"
"Anyone laughs, I will have them drop and give me thirty." Silence met Dusty's lame attempt at humor. He went on."Eric Clapton."
"No need to be so defensive man. Nothing wrong with a little Clapton," JT said.
"Well I am glad I finally have your approval," Dusty shot at JT.
"Alan?" Tyrone said, moving it along.
"Alice in Chains," Alan said, almost in a whisper. "I could go for some Don't Follow right about now."
"You know, that's my favorite song by them too," JT added.
The rounds make, they all went back to eating. JT was glad when Tyrone spoke up again, it was getting awkward. Harold was practically squirming in his chair. Why had Harold set up this dinner in the first place?
"I wonder how long it will be until I can have some McDonald's french fries again?" Tyrone wondered. "Man do I miss them, they were the shit."
"I miss Dairy Queen. Hell, ice cream period," JT joined in.
"The DQ, I use to..." Alan started. He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes became tight slits. He looked down at his plate and started shoveling carrots into his mouth.
Tyrone continued. "The one thing I am shocked about missing is school. I loved playing football, but the classes? Still can do without most of those. I miss the sameness, you know what I mean,"
"Schools are just indoctrination camps for the rich who run this country. Learn enough to become a cash cow
for them to milk," Harold said. It was his first real comment since dinner started.
"I am a teacher, I don't think that is true at all," Mike objected. "I was never told what to say or do. I had to follow certain guidelines of course but I don't think that is the same."
"Of course not, you are just the foot soldier. Now the head of the state Department of Education, they might have been in on it. It's hard to say how far down they let anyone in on the agenda."
"Well anyway," JT broke in, eager to move the topic to anything else. The first thing that popped in his head was about the Outbreak "How do any of you think this whole zombie thing started in the first place? I mean it is really hard for me to believe that it only took hours for this thing to go from normal to..."
"Nuttier than a men's locker room?" Gus suggested. This elicited chuckles from most of them.
"God," said Ashley, rolling her eyes. "Gus, you are so gross sometimes."
"That's what my ex-wife said, too. You want to become the next one sweetie?" Gus made kissy faces at Ashley.
"I think I just threw up in my mouth a little."
JT looked over again at Harold. Harold was mildly shaking in his seat, and rubbing his temples. What's going on with this guy?
"Lighten up, Ashley," Hannah continued. "Anyway, what do you think happened?" She ended in a vague kind of way.
"In the movies it's usually some kind of virus, either natural or man-made," JT said.
"Well, I remember a story on the news where I lived,"Alan chimed in. "They were talking about some virus on that last day. They thought it was rabies or something."
"Yeah and Twitter was going crazy with all these posts about zombies, rioting, end of days stuff. It all seemed like some stupid April Fool's Day joke," Ashley added.
Gus let out a laugh. "You kids and your Tweeters or Twatters or whatever the hell you just said. I sure don't miss people having their noses glued to their damn phones all the time."
"We ain't in the movies, if you haven't noticed," Dusty said in a sarcastic tone. JT did his best to ignore it. He didn't want to ruin anyone's night.
"It is strange though, how much of that stuff from the movies has been kind of accurate," Hannah said. "I'm not a scary movie fan, but I have seen a few. I mean damage to the head seems to be the only thing that stops them for good, they seem to be attracted to sound. If one of them bites you and you don't get eaten, you become one of them."
"Like I said before, that's because it's government developed," Harold slammed a fist down on the table. "I bet some of those Hollywood types were friendly with the military industrial complex, got a look at some of the secret stuff. Thought hey, this would be a good idea for a movie. Of course those movies are right. I'm taking your word for it anyway, I don't watch movies anymore. TV either. Video screens, those things transmit their messages right into your brain. It is just elitist brainwashing propaganda anyhow."
"Damn, and here I thought maybe it was aliens, escaped from Area 51 and they were spreading their seed across the world." Gus tried to lighten things up.
"You know, I am getting sick of government this and military that,"Dusty started, scooting his chair back.
"You know what!" Harold said, standing. His chair fell back to the ground with a crash. "If you are so sick of me, you can do what I told your leader here to do. You can all leave!"
Harold stalked off to his bedroom and slammed the door.
Dusty turned to JT, with a questioning look. The others followed with puzzlement in their eyes. Dusty opened his mouth to speak. JT prepared himself to embrace the shit storm coming his way. Fuck you Harold!
Dusty was interrupted before he even got started by a loud boom that rattled the cabin. JT rushed to look out a cabin window. White flares lit up the night sky.
"Something has tripped one of my alarms," Harold said, coming back into the room. His awkward, soft spoken demeanor was gone. His screeching, angry voice was gone. He spoke as if he was a commander on a battlefield. "Everyone, get a weapon. Quickly!"
"Shit I think most of us left them out in the tents," JT said.
"I have one of mine, of course." Dusty pulled his pistol from his belt.
JT realized that they had become too lax, too comfortable. Here they were, without weapons. Unable to defend themselves. He hoped his mistake wouldn't cost anyone their life.
Harold strode in the other room, and came back out with a rifle and a shotgun. He handed the shotgun to JT. JT felt relieved, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hand.
"Someone needs to go out there and get more weapons," Harold said, pointing to the kitchen door. "Dusty and I will cover you. Be quick about it."
"Tyrone, let's go," JT said, waving him on.
The two stood at the kitchen doorway. They looked out at the small tent city between the cabin and the field. JT's heart was beating fast. Looking out they saw no movement, but an eerie feeling filled the night air.
"Alright on three," JT said. "One...two...three!"
Tyrone left JT in the dust. Damn I forgot just how fast this kid is. With my bum knee, why did I volunteer for this? Floodlights tripped on, helping to light up the way. Tyrone had already snatched up two rifles and was heading back by the time JT got to the tents. He dove into his tent, got his pistol and rifle, and got back out. Then the firing started.
JT turned to look and scrambled backwards. Across the forest, left to right as far as he could see, the woods and fields had come alive with zombies.
"Get back here!" he heard Hannah shout at him.
He jammed the pistol into this jeans, slung his rifle over his shoulder and started walking backwards, firing the shotgun. It was almost impossible not to hit something, there were so many. They weren't head shots, but the damage he was causing would at least slow down the tide.
He made it back into the kitchen doorway, then knelt down in the opening. He switched from the shotgun to the rifle. Gunfire filled the night air. JT's nose began to burn with the acidic smell of gunpowder.
"Runner on the left!" Harold hollered, fighting to be heard over the thunderous noise.
JT pivoted, his bad knee protesting. He got the runner in his sights, a woman in a power suit. Taking two shots, he got her right in the side of the head, dropping her.
The tide of the zombies slowed as they began to stumble and fall, tripping over those that had been downed. That gave them a small advantage. Still, JT didn't think they were going to get enough of them in time. Things were going to get messy. He felt like this could be the end. His group's Alamo.
Dusty must have just realized it as well. He bellowed out, "We aren't going to stop them before they reach the house!"
"Hannah, help Ashley back into my room. Block the door with whatever you can," Harold ordered while he fired shot after shot.
The remaining undead had just about made it to the cabin. JT estimated there had to be at least thirty still left. Jesus where did they all come from?
"Lead them through the door," Dusty barked at JT. "It will be a choke point and we should be able to engage them with much better odds."
JT began to back out of the doorway. Someone was hitting him on the shoulder. He turned and Harold handed him an axe.
"We don't want to be shooting each other," Harold explained.
He had given one to Mike too. JT saw Harold had a machete, as did Thomas. Gus had his hatchet. Alan had his crowbar. Tyrone was back out of the way. Dusty was at the window. JT passed his shotgun to him.
"Here they come," Dusty said, sounding as calm as if he was announcing invited dinner guest had arrived.
They hit the cabin like a wave crashing against a rock face. JT almost expected the cabin to go toppling end over end from the impact. A zombie in a red jumpsuit and another in decayed blue jeans were just about through the door, when the thunderous sound of the shotgun filled the cabin. They both went down as their heads were shredded like cheese in a grater. The next zombie flipped through the doors over the still bodies. Dusty took a shot, so
mehow only hitting it in the side. The dead thing continued crawling forward, leaving rotten chunks of itself in its wake. Harold stepped up and decapitated it with one blow.
Hands groped through the open window, forcing Dusty back. He dropped his shotgun and backpedaled, pulling his bowie knife. The dead began to spill in through the open door. Harold took one at the knee, then lopped off its head when it was down. Mike raised his axe, splitting open the head of the next. A grey jelly like substance clung to the axe blade. Alan savagely took after the zombies with his crowbar, no strategy at all in his attack. All time for thought ended as the men hacked and slashed, slowly moving backwards through the house as the bodies piled up.
Thomas tripped over an outstretched arm of one of the now re-dead bodies. He fell flat on his back, head bouncing off of the floor. A hole riddled corpse lunged on top of him. Thomas's machete was pinned between his body the zombie. It tore at him with ruined fingernails, which bent backwards as it tried to open his warm skin. Teeth clamped onto his shoulder. It pulled, tearing and tearing. Thomas cried out in pain like a wounded animal caught in a trap.
JT heard the cries and turned to help. Before he could even think of a plan, he saw Harold cross the room in two giant steps. In a fluid motion he first chopped off the zombie's head, and then Thomas's.
JT shook his head in disbelief. The stench of death and rot filled his world
Dusty dispatched the last zombie, a slender teenager in what use to be a pretty yellow sundress. He pulled his knife from its eye socket, bringing the eyeball and its attached tendons out with it. He flung his wrist hard sending the gore flying. He wiped the rest off on a drape and then sheathed it.
JT charged as fast as he could through the dead piles at Harold.
"Why the hell did you do that?!" JT was shouting. "You didn't even check on him first! He wasn't dead yet!"
"That is exactly why I did it," Harold replied, coldly.
Alan continued hacking at the bodies until he collapsed in a heap. Gus was holding up a wall, breathing heavily. Mike stood among the dead, axe in both hands, white as bone.
