The shock of the moment quickly dissipates and Sly exits the truck. She stops briefly at the rear of the truck, checking on Brett and the canine newcomer to the squad. Brett gives her the thumbs up sign. She continues around the truck, finding Craig sitting on top of Adam, choking him. Adam’s arms are splayed out wide showing no sign of life.
Sly sees Yonkey out of the corner of her eye, raising his sidearm in the direction of approaching zombies. She turns her attention back to Craig. “Let him go, Craig.” Sly doesn’t waste any more time as she places the barrel of her .40 against the back of Craig’s head. “I fucking told you to let him go!”
Craig had accompanied Sly on several supply missions, witnessed her killing without prejudice, and knew she was capable of shooting him where he sat. Adams head drops to the pavement with a slight thud. Craig raises his hands high in the air and turns, meeting Sly’s menacing stare. “He almost got us all killed.”
“That’s not the way I see it, but we don’t have time right now. Look around, we need to go.”
Craig peers over Sly’s shoulder as Yonkey fires his sidearm, followed by two rapid thundering booms from Papi’s shotgun. “Don’t have to tell me twice. Let’s roll.” Craig steps to the side and reaches down to help Adam up in an effort to display his willingness to remain part of the group, if only for a short time longer. The blade enters just below his sternum, driving deep into his chest cavity, before it’s violently pulled out with a twist.
Craig stumbles back, pressing hard on the wound. His shirt blossoms a brilliant purple as blood rushes from his chest with every beat of his heart. He stops, raises his blood-covered hands and then time slows. He looks around at the members of the squad wondering why they aren’t killing that motherfucker holding the knife, why they aren’t rushing to his aid, why…
“I fucking knew about your plan, the so called squad. I know everything. I’m the guy with all the keys and the plans for the city. I’m the guy that calls the shots. I’m the city supervisor,” Adam shouts hoarsely at Craig, before turning to face the Squad. “Time for that motherfucker to die! As for the rest of you, here’s what we’re going to do.”
Before Adam can finish his speech Craig drops to his knees, life streaming out of him, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He is cold, the pain is excruciating. He can hear Sly yelling, his vision blurs, focuses for a brief second, then all is bright. The darkness of nothing comes calling next and Craig falls to his side. He can still hear Sly and in his final thought he hopes she kills Adam, really badly.
Sly raises her .40 and walks straight at Adam. He holds his hands out to the side. His left hand is covered in Craig’s blood and still grasps the serrated edge of the four-inch blade. “Drop it!”
Adam drops the blade. “It was self-defense. He was trying to kill me. You saw it. Now we have business to attend to, so I suggest…”
“He was fucking helping you up. Why…why…” Tears start to flow. Sly has never been a crier, but she has finally reached her limit. The loss of Giant and now Craig, her squad is falling apart, and their mission is simple. Deliver the two boys, in her charge, back to their tree house, where they can live out the remainder of their days however they see fit. They deserve to go out on their own terms, even though she knows deep down they will be dead in a matter of days. The realization that the world will never return to normal, that the dead will continue to rise, and that she can’t save anybody, crushes her. She drops to her knees holding the .40 loosely in her right hand.
Adam walks away from Sly, heading for the truck. His mind is clear. He needs a gun and the truck. He reaches to pull himself into the driver’s seat, when his left knee disintegrates as the hollow point from Sly’s .40 nearly amputates his leg. He collapses to the ground looking up as Sly hovers over him. His eyes shift briefly, catching a glimpse of Papi smiling at him before the final flash.
Sly stands over Adam’s corpse, wiping tears from her eyes. She looks into the cab of the truck, making eye contact with Roger. He shows no emotion. Papi squeezes her shoulder and says, “We need to go. Don’t worry about him. You just punched his ticket to a better place.” Papi steps back, looking at Roger. “Hey, partner. Close the passenger door. We’ll be right in.” Papi signals Yonkey to get back to the truck before gathering the large key ring from Adam’s belt.
Brett stands in the bed of the truck watching everything from the double murder to Yonkey taking target practice. He kneels beside Sugar. “I bet you want to go home, too, don’t you? Roger and me, we’ll help you.”
It takes a moment for Papi’s words to sink in for Roger. He blinks hard, attempting to clear his thoughts, then looks over at the open passenger side door. He leans over to grab the handle; his seatbelt is still latched, restricting his reach. He stretches as far as he can. His fingertips are dancing on the edge of the door handle. He dips his head in an effort to reach a few more centimeters. He feels a cold hand grasp his wrist, then the pop from Brett’s 20 gauge. He doesn’t want to look; he knows what’s waiting for him. He stares at the seat bottom, then looks up as the zombie, missing the side of its head, falls to the side releasing his arm.
“You really need to watch your surroundings,” Brett says with a big smile, pumping another round into the shotgun’s chamber.
Papi and Sly stand alongside the driver’s side of the truck, having watched Brett take the shot. “Well, we better get these two home before one of them gets killed out here,” Papi states, pulling himself into the driver’s seat.
“Sorry about Craig. He didn’t deserve that,” Sly says, pulling herself into the backseat. She turns looking out the rear window. “Brett, ride up here. It’s safer.”
“That’s ok. I’ll stay back here with Sugar. She needs me.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll keep the slider open.”
Papi looks into the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Sly looking back at him. “Craig’s in a better place too. I’m just glad he didn’t go out like some of the others we have known.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I don’t have any tears left for this world.” Sly brushes the back of Roger’s head knowing he’s in a bad place. She’s watched him almost die twice, in the span of twenty minutes and yet, he still carries his self-imposed responsibility for Brett on his shoulders and it’s beginning to weigh him down. “We’re going to get you boys home, I promise.” Sly continues caressing the back of Roger’s head. He remains silent, watching the dead world, knowing he won’t live to see 14. He glances into the side mirror as they drive away, seeing Craig’s body twitch and jerk violently.
CHAPTER 47.
Keys
This place is not safe Jack
Jack ignores the voice of his dead wife and continues searching every drawer, shelf, and cabinet in the control center for the truck keys. He leaves cabinet doors and drawers open after searching them, in an effort to not duplicate his efforts. There is some madness in his methods (a little joke he used to tell his students). He pulls open another drawer, finding no keys, when a sudden craving for fresh coffee blinds him. He turns to walk to the coffee maker and sees her standing in the middle of the room. Her image wavers, dissolves in the light, and returns in the shadows. Julia’s wearing the same blue hooded sweatshirt and jeans she was wearing the day she died.
“Why do you do this, Julia?”
You don’t listen to yourself
“I didn’t ask for you to come.”
This place is not safe
“I miss you, but I can’t continue to do this, I can’t talk to you as though you’re here.”
This place is not safe
“I fucking know that, Julia.” Jack grabs both sides of his head, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to make her go away.
This place…
“Please let me see my son. Please, Julia, if you are really here, let me see him.” Jack sways back and forth pressing as hard as he can on his temples. His messy long black hair is intertwined in his fingers, showing multiple grey streaks. Sp
ittle rolls down his long beard, which displays the same grey streaks. He snaps his head up and walks forward, determined to either grab his wife or wipe her ghost away forever. She smiles and fades away as Jack wraps his arms around her image. Feeling nothing but a faint wisp of air passing by, Jack drops to his knees screaming, “I’m sorry Julia. I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed you. I miss him, I miss you both.”
Jack sat on his knees for a minute or ten before gingerly rising. His left knee pops, and he can feel a new strain in his hamstrings. The aches and pains throughout his body are stern reminders of why he needs a safe place to stay for a while. The wounds on his left arm and hand are the sacrifices he made to obtain this house and all its nifty little secrets. He doesn’t know if the price for admission is worth it, but hell, there’s coffee. As he leans against the desk he realizes he has had another break from reality, is there’s reality left in the world. His mind shifts between thoughts of, Ghosts aren’t real, I can’t talk to my dead wife, to Zombies now exist, so why can’t ghosts? Memories are films about ghosts. The last part he remembers from a Counting Crows song and he begins to hum.
Jack resumes his search with thoughts of Ronan and Julia in the back of his mind. He relives the last few seconds he ever saw them, over and over. Then he strikes an epiphany, finally understanding his plight for surviving this horrific nightmare. He has to prove he is worthy of being with Ronan and Julia again in heaven, being a father and husband in a different reality. His will to survive, will to take every last breath, is the belief he can win the ultimate prize and be with his family again. His chest feels light, his aches ease and he smiles.
The smile dips and turns to a frown on Jack’s face, as reality sneaks in like an assassin on a mission to destroy his psyche. Finding some comfort in new routines, he preps a new pot of coffee before stepping into the master bedroom. The room is a mess. He has strewn clothes and Effinger belongings all over the floor, not to mention the messy stash of weapons. Jack spies Ronan’s little red Datsun Hot Wheel sitting atop a tall dresser. He walks around the piles of clothing and dirty towels, placing his right hand on the Hot Wheel. He rolls it back and forth, leaving a trail in the dust. After playing for a minute, he studies the room, and for the next two hours he cleans, ignoring Julia’s warning.
CHAPTER 48.
Movie
Phillip Lodge lies in his bunk, staring into complete darkness. He has been underground for over a month and misses the sun. Having spent his college years in San Diego, he really misses the sun. He watches flashes of light dance in the darkness, knowing his eyes are playing tricks on him, but he doesn’t mind. The simple illusions keep him company. He has no idea what time zone he is in. He has access to every functioning computer, surveillance camera and even satellites, yet he can’t tell where he and Dix are housed. Mr. Butler, AKA Spook, told him, “You don’t need to know your whereabouts at this time. You only need to know you’re safe and your country needs you.”
Phillip’s insomnia has worsened since he and Dix arrived at the “Underground City.” When not on duty, managing the worm from one side of the country to the other, they are free to roam the fully staffed shops and fast food restaurants. They strike up conversations with the same employees every day, never receiving the answers they seek. “Do you know where we are?” the typical question, the answer always, “You’re here in U City.” Dix surmised they were in Colorado, though he really had no evidence to back his theory. Phillip gave up trying to figure out where they are, deciding to focus on the task at hand. He has been writing and producing helpful software to accompany the worm. Besides, Spook scares the shit out of him.
Knowing he isn’t falling asleep any time soon, Phillip stands and walks over to the wall, feeling for the light switch. The fluorescent lights flicker on, forcing him to squint briefly. He hates the way his skin looks in the false light. He opens a large cabinet, revealing rows and rows of DVDs and Blu-ray movies. He scans through the titles, skipping movies and T.V. shows he has already seen or doesn’t care to see. He retrieves two movies, neither of which he has seen, and reads the backs. He chooses Ghoul, popping it into the DVD player. As previews play he throws a bag of popcorn in the microwave and grabs an A&W Root Beer from a small refrigerator in the corner of his room. He picks up the hardwired phone sitting on a small desk, dialing 645. The phone rings twice.
“Can’t sleep again.” Dix says on the other end.
“I got a movie we haven’t seen, ready to go?”
“Alright. I’ll be over in a minute. But I’m warning you now, if I fall asleep you better not write on my face again.”
“It was just a small set of cock and balls.”
“In space, nobody can hear you scream.”
“Yeah, popcorn just beeped. Let’s watch this movie and go check on the worm.”
Soon Phillip and Dix are sitting in big comfortable recliners, both covered with warm blankets. Dix is asleep within three minutes. Phillip briefly considers fucking with his friend, deciding instead to watch the movie in an attempt to lose himself for a while.
One level down from Phillip’s room sits the Search and Survey room he and Dix work in. The monitors spanning the room are up, showing green, yellow and red lines. In the back of the room Sebastian Butler sits. Butler glides his right hand over a keyboard and types a new command. The large monitors flicker briefly, then the top layer of the map drops away, leaving a new series of yellow and red lines. He watches the percentage meter rise on one of the lines to 89% then shoot to 100%, changing from yellow to green. Butler sits back in his chair immensely satisfied.
CHAPTER 49.
Laugh
Roger watches streets roll slowly by, barely noticing walkers and the occasional runner they pass. A tremendous melancholy is falling upon him. He’s never one to feel sorry for himself, though, even when Shelly July pushed him down on the soccer field; he simply pointed out she had mad skills and patted her on the back. In reality, he was pissed and had been plotting his revenge, including wooing her in high school, going to college with her, marrying her, then dumping her for Mandy Smith! Now she’s gone and his plot won’t ever come to fruition. His shoulders slump forward even further. His thoughts grow darker, as flashes of anger blind him. The melancholy feeling is quickly replaced and he has questions. Why isn’t Brett up here with me? Why is he back there exposed to the world full of zombies? These motherfucking adults.
Roger leans forward, looking into the side mirror. Papi has found an open stretch of road, allowing him to speed along at 35 mph. Roger watches Sugar place her head into the wind. Her long tongue flops around and she looks to be enjoying herself. Roger looks away, seeing Brett’s head pop into the picture. That fucking dog. Does he expect us to lift it into the tree house?
“Hey, Papi, shouldn’t we get Brett up here with us? It’s safer in here.” Roger is burning a hole in the side of Papi’s head with his stare.
“No, he seems fine back there. What do you think Sly?”
“I didn’t ask her. I asked you. You’re driving aren’t you? You’re in charge aren’t you? So let’s pull over and get him in the truck where it’s safe.” Rage is threatening to encompass all of Roger’s thoughts. He is hungry, tired and most of all, he is embarrassed about the near death experiences, when he is the mature one. Now Brett is in the back of the truck, exposed to the world.
“Now listen here, boy, you got one sucker punch on me and I let it go. I will not sit here and allow you to speak to me like that.” Papi slows, approaching several abandoned and burned out cars scattered along the street.
“Roger, calm down. We have the slider open. If there’s trouble we’ll get him in here,” Yonkey stated, anticipating more trouble.
Roger pays Yonkey no attention, “Well, Papi?”
“Fine. We’ll stop when it’s clear. There’s too many cars around here,” Papi answers, taking the high road, knowing full well he doesn’t want another sucker punch. The last one hurt like a motherfu—
/> “Thank you. I’ve been responsible for him ever since he moved next door.” Roger turned in his seat looking back out the windshield, though he didn’t see much beyond his own memories. “He’s smart, but sometimes he’s too smart for his own good. My dad used to say that about him all the time. I’m all he has left in this world and I told his mom a long time ago I would always look out for him.”
Papi maneuvers the truck between abandoned vehicles, listening to Roger. He now knows Rogers’ plight and in some respect, he feels sorry for the boy knowing no thirteen-year-old should ever be handed this much responsibility. He wants to comment several times, but holds his tongue thinking it’s good for the boy to talk. Sly and Yonkey quickly realize what Papi is doing and remain silent. Yonkey watches Brett petting Sugar on the head as she rests her head in his lap.
“Brett was the class clown but he also had one of the highest GPA’s. He helped me out in math a lot. This whole thing started at our school, I think. I remember one girl, what was her name…wow, I can’t remember her name...” Roger pauses, staring at the floorboard.
“It’s alright, son. I’ve forgotten a whole bunch of people from my life. I see their faces, but can’t remember their names,” Papi quips with a smile.
“I don’t think that’s a good thing. I should remember her. You should remember your friends. Without that, without remembering our friends and family, what are we, what do we have left?”
Dust of the Devil's Land Page 19
