by Carl Hose
Edgewater gave him a sideways glance. “About what?”
“You serious?” Colbrook asked. “About the situation we’re in and what you’re going to do about it.”
Edgewater sipped his coffee. “What can I do about it, son? The situation is out of control. You saw it with your own two goddamned eyes. Hell, take a look at the news. The black shit’s got people dropping like flies and coming back quicker than you can drop your trousers and take a dump. We’re up to our necks in dead things.”
“That’s all you have? All your bravado and that mightier-than-thou bullshit, and that’s all you have to offer?”
Edgewater lit a cigar. “I got men posted all around the perimeter of this godforsaken town. We’ll keep the dead sons of bitches out. That’s about all I can do for you and your town. The rest of the goddamned country is on its own at this point.”
Colbrook looked at Edgewater for a long moment, considering what else he could say. Edgewater didn’t bother looking back at him. As far as Colbrook could see, the military’s official capacity was coming to an end.
“Have a nice day, Colonel,” Colbrook said, then left.
Dalton was getting out of his truck when Colbrook came out of Edna’s. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.
“Got another one of those?” Colbrook asked.
Dalton shook one loose. Colbrook lit it with his own lighter “Just talked to Edgewater. He says the military is pretty much finished.”
“You believe that?”
“No choice but to believe it. I saw what the stuff from those rocks does. It isn’t pretty, and with more dead people coming back by the minute, we’re all pretty much screwed.”
“What’s the plan then?”
“Edgewater’s got men posted around town. That’ll do for now, but we’re going to need something more secure and permanent. Any ideas you have right about now would be welcome.”
“I’ll give it some thought, see what I can come up with,” Dalton said.
“In the meantime, let’s see what we can find out on the news,” Colbrook told him. “I’m not about to get all my information from Edgewater.”
Colbrook wasn’t sure there was anything he could do the military couldn’t, but he wasn’t prone to sitting on his ass and letting shit happen. If there was even a slight chance he could do anything to keep the people of Faith safe, he’d take that chance and play it for all it was worth.
Thirteen
“This is great, Johnny. You’re a real rocket scientist. We should have stayed in the car.”
“And what, wait for someone to come along and save our asses? I make my own fuckin’ way. It works out better.”
They were walking along the shoulder of a deserted stretch of highway. Rain came down in intermittent bursts. Wanda was out of breath and doing her best to keep up.
“Where do you think everybody’s gone?”
“Probably holed up inside their houses, ready to blow away anything that comes near the front door. That’s where the smart money is.”
“Slow down, will ya?”
“You need to pick up the pace.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the dark with who the fuck knows what’s goin’ on, and pardon my fuckin’ grammar, I don’t want my balls on a platter like Swedish meatballs.”
“I’m wearing’ heels. You try walkin’ in the rain on the shoulder of the highway in heels sometime, you’ll see.”
“No, thanks,” Johnny said.
“I thought you put more gas in the car.”
“When did I have time to turn on the pump? What did you expect me to do, tell the rabid kid to wait while I filled up?”
She sighed. “I’m tired of fighting, Johnny. Can we just stop?”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
“Hey, listen . . .” He stopped and cocked an ear. “You hear that?”
There was a low sound in the distance that gradually became identifiable as the sound of a vehicle, then a pair of headlights topped the hill behind them. Johnny stepped into the road and began waving his arms as a 1960s VW bus approached. The mini-bus made no effort to slow as it reached them and roared past, almost clipping Johnny in the process. He spun around to flip the finger at the mini-bus and saw the taillights brighten as the VW slowed and pulled to the shoulder of the road.
Johnny took off at a sprint, grateful to see the mini-bus backing up to meet them, and Wanda did her best to keep up, twisting her ankle in the process. The mini-bus stopped and the side door slid open. Johnny helped Wanda in, then he climbed in behind her and pulled the door shut.
“Appreciate the ride,” Johnny said. “Even if you did almost run me over.”
“Sorry about that,” the kid behind the wheel said.
He couldn’t have been more than twenty, with a head full of curly blonde hair and a goofy grin. A blonde hippie chick, probably younger than the driver, sat in the passenger seat.
“Wow, you guys are, like, soaked,” the kid said.
“That shit tends to happen when you’re walkin’ in the rain,” Johnny said.
Wanda jabbed him with her elbow and gave him a dirty look, but it really didn’t matter. His sarcasm had gone over the kid’s head.
“We appreciate the lift,” Wanda said, adding more sincerity to make up for Johnny’s lack of manners.
“No problem,” the hippie chick said. “We couldn’t leave you stranded out there. Sorry we drove by at first, but with everything going on, like, we had to be careful, ya know.”
“I don’t blame you,” Wanda said.
“My name’s Terri Lynn, by the way, and this is my boyfriend Bobby.”
“I’m Wanda and this is my rude friend Johnny, who sometimes doesn’t know when to stop runnin’ his mouth. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize for me,” Johnny said.
“It’s cool, really,” Terri Lynn said. “So, where are you two heading?”
“Not a fuckin’ clue,” Johnny said. “Somewhere where everything isn’t fuckin’ nuts, that’s all I care about.”
“That would be far out, man, but I don’t think there’s any place like that. The whole country’s under the influence of bad, bad karma right now.”
“Is that what you call it?” Johnny said, nearing the end of his rope. “You think this is all some kinda bad karma?”
Terri Lynn took a plastic bag full of weed and a package of rolling papers from the glove box and began rolling a joint.
“Dead people, man,” Bobby said. “It’s just like in the movies.”
“This ain’t the movies,” Johnny told him. “You keep gettin’ your panties wet like you are, you ain’t gonna last long.”
“We came down from Canada,” Bobby went on, completely oblivious to Johnny’s comment. “My dad owns a funeral home outside of Detroit. Bright Funeral Home. Bright’s the family name. I could’ve owned it, but man . . .”
Johnny rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Terri and me went by to see if he was okay,” Bobby went on. “I’m tellin’ you, those dead things were everywhere, and my old man was one of ’em.”
Terri passed the joint to Bobby. He took it from her and filled his lungs with the acrid smoke, almost choking in his effort to keep it in, then reached back to offer the joint to Johnny.
“I don’t need that shit,” Johnny said. “I see dead people without it.”
Bobby offered it to Wanda, who shook her head. He shrugged and handed it to Terri.
“Get off at the next exit,” Johnny said. “We need some guns.”
“Man, we don’t need guns,” Bobby said.
“Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, kid? If we plan on surviving, we’re gonna need some guns.”
“There are other ways to stay safe,” Terri Lynn said. “That’s what the police and the military are for.”
“Smokin’ that shit has really messed up your mind,” Johnny told her. “Let me t
ell you somethin’, sister, you depend on those people if you want, but when the shit hits the fan, I’m the only one I’m countin’ on to save my ass. Now, pull off the fuckin’ highway and let’s find some guns.”
The next exit came less than half a mile later. Bobby pulled off the highway and made a right. He drove for a mile before they came to a small town. A few of the houses were lit. Most of them looked deserted, with windows busted out and trash strewn everywhere.
“Wow, does this place look dead or what?” Bobby said.
“Nice choice of words, flower child,” Johnny said. He leaned between the seats to look out the front window. “Take a right at the end of the street.”
Bobby slowed and came to a stop at the intersection, making sure to activate his blinker. He made a right and drove until the residential buildings began to thin out, giving way to a small-town business section.
“Over there,” Johnny said, pointing at a building with a sign that read: MARTY’S ONE-STOP SPORTING SHOP.
Bobby slowed to a stop and put the mini-bus in park.
Johnny slid the side door open and hopped out. Bobby looked at Terri, shrugged his shoulders, and got out to join Johnny. Johnny was a little worried about how pale and weak the kid looked, but he was Johnny’s backup, like it or not.
“Lock the doors and honk if you get into trouble,” Johnny told Wanda.
“Hey, Johnny,” she said.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Be careful.”
Johnny smiled a genuine smile. “I always am,” he said, then shut the door and waited until he heard it lock before he turned away.
The store was locked up tight, so Johnny picked up a nearby rock and hurled it through the plate glass window. He kicked shards of glass out of the way and climbed through the window, waving for Bobby to follow him. Once inside, he said, “Look for guns, knives, ammunition, anything you think we can use.”
A glass case on one side of the store housed a wide selection of handguns. Johnny smashed the case, grabbed three guns, then went around behind the counter. He found a bag and tossed the guns inside, then he went through the ammunition and found everything he could use.
“How ’bout these?” Bobby asked, grinning big as he held up an armload of first aid kits.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, kid,” Johnny said. He pushed the weapons and ammo across the counter. “Take this stuff to the van. I’m grabbin’ some rifles. I’ll be right behind you.”
When Bobby was outside, Johnny went through the store, gathering up flashlights, batteries, a hunting rifle, and a couple of shotguns. He was in the process of loading another bag with ammunition when the horn on the mini-bus began to go crazy.
Johnny hurried to look outside. A swarm of dead things were crawling all over the mini-bus. Johnny dropped everything to the floor except a shotgun, then he dropped to his knees and went through the stuff until he found a box of shells for the shotgun. He loaded quickly, emptied the remaining shells from the box into his pocket, and stepped outside.
A dead waitress was banging her head on the passenger side of the mini-bus. “Hey, sweet cheeks,” Johnny said.
She turned toward the sound of his voice. He leveled the shotgun, bringing its business end within inches of the dead girl’s face, and squeezed off a round. Her head exploded in a shower of blood and bone fragment.
Johnny swung left, dropping the shotgun down to waist level. An old man in coveralls was limping toward him. Johnny fired and nearly blew the man in half, but he kept coming anyway, dragging his internal organs with him. Johnny didn’t miss a beat as he raised the shotgun and fired again, disintegrating the old man’s head.
“Open the fuckin’ door,” Johnny yelled.
The side door slid open and Wanda leaned out, trying to lend Johnny a hand. “Come on, Johnny,” He started to climb in, remembered the supplies at the front door, and turned around for them. Two dead things came around the front of the VW. Johnny half-turned toward them and fired twice. He missed the first shot entirely. The second shot blew the head off one of the dead things. By then, the other one was almost on him, leaving Johnny no choice but to abandon the supplies. He jumped into the mini-bus, slammed the door shut, and said, “Go, damnit, and run over anything that gets in your way.”
Bobby hit the gas. A naked man with his ribcage exposed ran in front of the VW, causing Bobby to freeze up.
“Hit the fuckin’ thing,” Johnny said.
Bobby closed his eyes and pressed his foot down on the pedal. There was a solid thump as the VW hit the zombie, knocking it to the ground, and a slight jolt as the VW rolled over it.
Bobby made a U-turn, took out a mailbox, and drove onto the sidewalk.
Johnny reloaded the shotgun, trying to keep his balance as Bobby whipped the mini-bus all over the place.
“Gimme the fuckin’ wheel,” Johnny said.
Bobby slammed on the brakes and switched places with Johnny.
“This is how you do it,” Johnny said, laying the shotgun on the floor.
He hit the gas, squealing tires against the pavement as he set the front of the VW in line with the biggest cluster of walking stiffs he could find. The little VW took a beating as it plowed through the corpses, throwing rotting body parts in every direction.
“Motherfuckers,” Johnny said, grinning as he checked his handiwork in the rearview mirror. “Let’s see how easy it is to walk now.”
Fourteen
The sun was already shining bright. It was going to be another hot one, but a cool early-morning breeze kept the heat under control for now.
Edna’s place was teeming with activity. Joe was in the kitchen, filling orders as fast as he could. Edna and Abigail did the best they could to keep up with the customers.
One of the soldiers—a young private—patted Abigail on the ass when she walked by. Two of his buddies laughed and snorted like pigs.
“Do that again and I swear I’ll knock you out of that booth,” Abigail said.
The laughing soldiers stopped laughing and stared at Abby with their mouths still hanging open. The private who’d smacked her ass suddenly looked ashamed of himself. His face turned red.
“Sorry about that, ma’am. I really am,” he said. “I didn’t mean nothing by it, really. Just letting off a little steam is all.”
Abigail stared at him hard for another moment, then said, “Don’t let it happen again,” and walked away.
* * *
Colbrook, Dalton, Edgewater, and deputies Hagerman and Swanson were at the Sheriff’s Office. They’d been discussing the situation in heated fashion for some time. To everybody’s surprise, Edgewater was along for the ride, though his big dick status seemed to be alive and well.
“All right, let’s hear this bright idea you yokels have concocted,” he said, filling the air with a cloud of cigar smoke.
The Sheriff nodded at Dalton, inviting him to take the floor. Dalton, who had been leaning against a desk with his arms crossed, straightened up and cleared his throat. “We want to build a wall around Faith,” he said.
Edgewater stared at him for a long time, then said, “That’s it? You want to build a fucking wall? That’s your big plan?”
“That’s it,” Dalton said.
Edgewater’s face remained impassive for what seemed an eternity, then a grin slowly spread across his face. He chuckled, then broke into a hearty laugh. “Well, fuck me runnin’, I like it. We can do that shit.” He clapped Dalton on the shoulder. “Son of a bitch, you boys might be military material after all.”
* * *
Edgewater instructed his men to work with the people of Faith. He let them know he expected one hundred percent, and if he didn’t get it, there would be hell to pay and he’d be collecting the bill.
On the second day of construction, just before the finishing touches were in place, Pvt. Hawkins, the soldier who’d patted Abigail’s ass, was leaning against a post, smoking a cigarette and drinking a can of soda.
“Get your
ass in gear, private,” Edgewater barked. “Show some fuckin’ ambition or I’ll put my boot so far up your ass you’ll shine it with your prostate.”
A siren went off, saving Hawkins from an embarrassing situation.
“Rotten meat heading our way,” Edgewater yelled.
Two tanks rolled to the edge of the perimeter, surrounded by several foot soldiers armed and ready for the fight.
After seeing to the placement of troops, Edgewater said to Colbrook, “You and your boys sweep the town and blow anybody away that ain’t breathin’ the right way.”
Colbrook nodded and was about to gather his deputies when he saw a horde of at least a hundred walking corpses making their way down a mountain ridge south of town. The tanks and troops were focused on a much smaller group of corpses.
“Over there,” Colbrook said to Edgewater.
“Fuckers are on the warpath,” Edgewater said, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he followed Colbrook’s direction. He keyed his radio. “Turn those tanks south and blast the side of that mountain.”
The tanks repositioned on Edgewater’s command. The first 120 mm round left one tank’s smooth bore cannon and whistled through the air, on a collision course with the side of the mountain. The second tank joined the attack and the rounds slammed into the mountainside, disintegrating large quantities of dead flesh.
“Holy Christ, that’s the glory of love. Nail ’em again,” Edgewater ordered.
Colbrook said to his deputies, “You two ride together. Cover as much ground as you can. Shoot anybody that looks like they might be infected.”
“What if we can’t tell?” Hagerman asked.
“Then you shoot ’em to be on the safe side,” Edgewater chimed in.
Hagerman and Swanson looked to the Sheriff for confirmation.
“Do what he says,” Colbrook said, then to Dalton, “You coming with me?”
“I’m in,” Dalton said.
As the four of them headed out, Edgewater and his troops continued fighting off advancing zombies, which were now coming from the North as well as the south. The soldiers fanned out, meeting the zombies with a hail of M-16 fire. Most of the gun fire did nothing more than hold the walking dead at bay, but the occasional headshot brought some of them down.
