Before Randy could protest further Gary tugged down and brought the blade hard and fast into the wad of skin. He ignored the horrific cries from Randy as he worked the scalpel through the flesh. A torrent of hot blood spurt onto his hands and sprayed his shoes, but most of it was collected in the waiting pot. Gary dropped Randy's useless member into the mess. Randy fought in vain against his restraints for a while longer – even after the deed was done – then fell against them as a ghostly pallor broke over his face. The shock and the trauma eventually won, causing Randy to black out. Gary angrily lifted his head by his hair, ripping out a chunk as he violently shook him trying to bring him back around. He wanted to savor the moment, to make Randy fully aware that life as he knew it was over. Randy would never again be able to rape another person, living or dead. It should have given Gary a deep sense of satisfaction, but instead it only opened up his appetite for something much darker.
He unscrewed the poppers and waved them under Randy's nose until he revived with a start. Gary screwed the bottle shut again and set it back on the tray, as Randy stirred.
“I had a dream you'd come back for me,” Randy said, his voice soft now like a sick child dying of cancer. “I had a dream you'd set me free the same way I set all the rest of the girls free. Is that why you are here? To set me free?”
“No, Randy,” Gary said at last. “I'm here to make sure you pay for what you did.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Who's going to make you pay for what you've done in life? Who's going to make you answer to what you're doing right now?”
“I'm not sure yet,” Gary admitted. He was surprised he was so taken aback by the unexpected question. “But you won't be around to see it so I don't suppose it matters much to you.”
“Then it's like you're playing God?”
Gary froze again and thought about what Randy’s question meant. He could see Randy was fading fast from the blood loss. The big pot he'd put under him was now more than half full of dark blood. Randy would die any minute now.
The least he deserves at this point is the truth, Gary thought. Besides, there is no reason to lie any more. There is no one to make you pay for what you've done to him. No one will ever know what happened here once you leave.
“You're actually right,” Gary said at last. “It is like playing God.”
“Feels good, doesn't it?”
Randy managed the hint of a smile through his pain before going limp again. Gary was sure he was close to death now, but he still didn't feel satisfied. He didn't want it to end like this. He wanted Randy to suffer for his crimes, not slip into the peaceful release of the coming darkness.
“Wake up, buddy,” he said, slapping Randy much more forcefully than before. “I need you to stay with me.”
He grabbed the bottle of poppers once more off the steel tray next to Randy and clumsily unscrewed it. He fumbled with the lid and dropped it, picked it up and poured a small amount into the overturned side like a small cup, then placed it under Randy's nose. Randy's eyes fluttered but he didn't fully revive. He was still alive for the moment, but it was clear that he wouldn't be much longer. Gary might have only a few minutes left of keeping him conscious, and Randy would certainly expire within the hour. A sadness at seeing him go while Gary still had this unsatisfied feeling in his heart washed over him, making him want to cry and to laugh at the same time. It wasn't fair. That was the bottom line. Suffering briefly for having caused so much anguish and despair was too small a price to pay. He thought about the heartbroken parents he'd had to face over the years on the job, the devastated husbands and wives, the broken families. Over and over again he'd been the one to tell them that not only had the person they cared for more than anything else in the world died – but worse, that they'd been murdered. With Randy's victims he'd had the added displeasure of letting them know their sweet, innocent, emotionally stunted daughters had been sexually abused and then tortured before being strangled to death and posed for the world to see. When he thought about the countless lives Randy had destroyed in his selfishness, a dark anger rose up in him that could not be quenched. It didn't matter if Randy died a hundred times in a row. It would never be enough.
Death is too good for him, Gary thought, wishing he could go back in time before he'd neutered him and take more time to punish Randy. He thought about the angry zombie neighbor burning with a hunger he could not satisfy, and how much he understood that undead man now.
The answer to his dilemma came to him like a sudden sharp blow to his guts, nearly knocking the wind out of him. It was almost too simple. He'd leave a trail of bloody breadcrumbs to Randy and let them turn him into one of them. He laughed at the simplicity of it, feeling a cloying tickle in his heart where previously only anxiety had been. Gary reached over and pulled the blankets down from the wall, revealing a sliding glass door that led out to the dirty pool in the backyard. Then he leaned over and picked up the bucket of blood. Using both hands he poured some over Randy's head, coating the front of him in the sticky red mess. Then he walked a trail back out of the room toward the front door, which he propped open with a useless, dead plant. He backed out toward the street, dumping the last of the bloody mess onto the sun-bleached white curb. He turned and dropped the pan, letting it clatter to the ground. The sound of the neighbor wailing was now like a loud siren. Just as Gary had suspected, the racket had drawn in nearly a dozen of the newly dead. No doubt they were all from the nearby area.
Looks like Randy's neighbors will get the last word after all, thought Gary.
“Dinner!!!” Gary shouted at the top of his lungs as he kicked the pot into the curb, listening to it loudly ring out. “Come and get it!!!”
Several of the zombies close by sniffed at the air, then turned and charged on hobbled limbs toward Gary. Gary was surprised by their newfound speed. It was as if once they locked onto a fresh meal they somehow developed renewed strength and the agility to attack.
I better get moving before I become part of today's menu, he told himself as he sprinted back into the house. He hopped the sofa and bolted through the kitchen and out the back door, locking it behind him. He scurried over to Randy's bedroom window to take in the view. He held his breath again as he waited to see if they would take the bait. He counted out nearly sixty seconds before he saw the first living corpse enter Randy's room and find Randy deliciously covered in blood, hanging limply. The monster wasted no time tearing into Randy's face and neck with his teeth, causing his body to tremble like a dog shaking a freshly killed rabbit on a hiking trail. Within moments, the rest of the undead had found their way in as well. They gathered around the body and chewed into him, taking huge bites of skin and muscle away in their terrible mouths as they feasted on his body. A calm feeling settled over Gary as he watched the scene unfold. In his heart he knew justice had been served. He had expected to feel some guilt for his actions but to his surprise there was none, just a calming sense of relief spreading through him. He climbed over the back fence, careful to avoid being spotted by the line of zombies filing in through the open front door. There were dozens now entering, with more coming from up the block. They seemed not to notice as Gary slipped into the bushes and moved in the opposite direction of the house, toward the Lamborghini. He climbed inside and fired the engine up, peeling out as he drove past the house. The creatures heading inside barely gave him a glance as he passed. He saw several small zombie children kneeling by the curb as he drove by, licking up Randy's blood like kids eating ice cream on a hot summer's day.
*** *** ***
Gary knew something was off when he got back to the house on Mulholland. He'd just brought the Lamborghini through the tight curves of Coldwater Canyon, his heart racing as he took the corners as fast as he could, the sound of the engine's deafening roar echoing out across the Valley below. When he came to the gate he could see it closing. At first his mind couldn't register what it meant. There were very few people left in the world tha
t weren't already dead, and zombies didn't use gates.
Maybe the wiring is off, he thought as he punched in the gate code. The system automatically acknowledged his entry and the gate swung forward again. No. Not the wiring then.
He was too far up, too far out in the middle of nowhere for this to be random. He pulled the car forward and then he saw her car, parked next to his at the end of the long driveway.
“Sandra Wong.”
He pronounced her name like it was a surprise, like an unfamiliar word he was just learning that he'd never understood the meaning of until that moment. Just speaking her name that way transformed his image of her. She wasn't some weak, ass kissing social climber now. She was just a survivor like he was, like any living breathing human being in the world was at that point.
Why did she come up here?
Gary thought over the possibilities as he cut the engine. She might have had the same idea that he did originally, that the house was now vacant and no one would come looking for her up in the hills. There were supplies to last for at least a year, and her chances of running into a zombie were far fewer than she'd even be able to conceive. Zombies liked well-populated areas. They were drawn to noise and sound, and also seemed to be able to sense fear. But that wasn't the only thing Gary had noticed about them in the time since everything in the world had gone to shit. For whatever reason, be it gravity or the conservation of motion or the sheer numbers down below, zombies always moved downhill and congregated at the lowest points. The number one best way to avoid being turned into a zombie was to make sure you were never bitten by one – and the number one way to avoid getting a zombie bite was to move to the highest elevation possible. It was as simple an equation as that.
Gary glanced down at his immediate Mulholland neighbors and wondered how many were locked inside their homes, safe with a supply of food and clean water that would see them through the majority of this crisis. He shook his head thinking about how rich people still got all the breaks, even in the apocalypse.
The people who deserve it the least always get the most, he reminded himself. Maybe it's for the best that this world burns.
He turned and spit on the ground.
No, that wasn't why Wong was here. She knew him. She was his partner and she had watched him closely for over a year. She knew he would come up to the house and claim it. She probably also knew why he would chose this location and what he planned on doing.
He turned and began walking to the main house, the one built into the hill. There was no way that Sandra would have thought to start in the back house. No one would think to look for anyone out by the gym and the makeshift office. That was why Gary had chosen it in the first place.
It's the end of the world and yet I'm still paranoid, he thought. Then again, if she found me, maybe others can as well. Now who is paranoid?
He laughed to himself as he approached the front door. He was excited again. For the first time in years he was feeling nervous and anxious and looking forward to what would happen next. He hadn't felt that way since they told him the cancer was growing inside him.
She's here because she wants me, he thought, feeling something almost alien stir in his loins. It was the only thing that made sense. After all, there were no rules left. In this new world there was only survival. He realized he was actually excited for once to see her, and what a surprising feeling it was. It made him feel nostalgic for the way things used to be, the thought of busting on her in the office for a cheap laugh and watching her blush. He hadn't been nice to her, not really, yet she'd put up with it. It was like she wanted to earn his respect, like it was important to her that he give it over without being forced, but she never seemed to get there.
Maybe she's put me on a list the way I put Randy on one, he thought, reaching up and turning the knob on the front door.
Gary looked at his hands. They were covered in Randy's blood. It was up under his nails and sprayed across the front of his chest. He suddenly realized that he looked like something out of a horror film.
He swung the door open to find Sandra standing with her gun pointed right at his head.
“Freeze!” She yelled. He put both hands up.
“Detective Wong,” Gary said, making no effort to hide his amusement at the situation. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“Are you bit?” Her hands trembled and she had trouble making eye contact with him.
“No.”
“Don't fucking lie to me,” she barked, growing angry, her eyes darting quickly back and forth between his hands and his face. Gary made no attempt to move. He just smiled wider.
“I’ve missed you, Sandy,” he said. “You wouldn't think it, but I really did.”
“Why are you covered in blood?”
She inched forward, keeping her arms held high with the gun pointed at his head.
“Did you miss me too?”
“Keep your hands up, Wendell.”
“What, no Detective? That hurts.”
“You killed him, didn't you? I found the book out back, in the side house. You just left it out in the open.”
“I wasn't expecting company,” Gary countered. “But I’m glad you came.”
“You hunted him down and put a bullet in him? He was the one guy that you could never touch, so you took matters into your own hands. Go on, tell me it's true.”
“More or less,” Gary agreed. “There was a lot of begging involved and some more confessions, but you got the general idea of how it all went down.”
“How could you? I looked up to you! This goes against everything you ever taught me. You were like a father figure to me.”
She put the gun right to his forehead and he froze. There were angry tears in her darkening eyes. She looked like she wanted to be talked out of what she intended on doing, like things weren't going the way she had planned at all.
“I did what needed to be done,” he said softly. “It was the right thing to do. It brought me a lot of peace.”
“But what about justice?”
“Justice was definitely served,” Gary said, unblinking as he held her fiery glare. “He never showed any of his victims any kind of mercy at all. He delighted in their misery. Now he's just like them, or worse.”
“I want to know something,” she snapped, her anger renewed by his words.
“Ask me anything; I won't lie to you.”
“Did you always plan on doing this at some point? Was this part of how you saw things ending with him all along? Or did the end of the world bring you to this place?”
“You mean was it premeditated? Was I walking around solving cases with you, but harboring this secret plan to one day hunt down and kill Randy?”
“Just answer the question!”
“I don't know! I’d like to believe that it occurred to me after I saw people start eating each other alive, but I’m not real sure. I made my own master file on him from parts of different murder books I'd copied, and kept extensive notes on him because I knew it would bug me forever. I had planned on working on it during my retirement, maybe even bugging a friend from the FBI into helping me build a profile. I'd like to believe that the idea to take matters into my own hands never even popped into my head until I got up here. I just can't say for sure. Memory is a tricky thing. Honestly it might have started when Richard Ramirez died.”
“Richard Ramirez?”
“The Night Stalker,” Gary said helpfully.
“What about him?”
“Well, growing up in Los Angeles there was a time we were all afraid of him, you know. He loved to rape and torture his victims too. They convicted him of just thirteen murders, but believed he was responsible for countless more. They could never pin them on him.”
Sandra shook her head, but didn't lower the gun.
“You better start making sense fast.”
“Isn't it obvious what I'm saying? The guy made it his life's mission to hurt other people but when the time came t
o pay for what he had done, he got out of it. This is a guy who deserved to be killed and brought back and killed again a thousand times over for his crimes, but thanks to the criminal justice system he lived comfortably behind bars the rest of his days and died peacefully in a hospital bed. That really set me off at the time. I think it might have started there.”
“How can you say that to me? Of all people? After everything you put me through? I worshiped you and believed all your bullshit. Now you wanna change how I see all that? It's not bad enough that I lost the whole world as I knew it, that everything has gone to hell in a hand basket out there, now you want to take away my past as well? Why?”
Her hand was shaking uncontrollably now. He didn't believe she would be able to shoot. He didn't think that was what she ultimately wanted. She was begging him to give her a reason not to kill him. He'd never realized how much she looked up to him. It made him sad. He saw her now for what she really was: an inexperienced young girl with an infatuation for an older, emotionally unavailable father type. She was like a young lover looking to grow up fast, to live out her fantasies about adulthood and have her cherry popped at the same time.
“You know why,” he whispered. “Randy hurt young girls – innocent girls who trusted him. He couldn't stop himself. These were fragile children who needed protecting and the system wouldn't let me do anything about it. He wasn't going to stop. Don't you understand that? He was never going to stop!”
She shook her head and a fresh round of tears came out of her unbelieving eyes. She looked like a woman who’d just found out her husband works for the mob.
“What I can tell you is that about six months ago I started looking at things differently, as if there wasn't going to be much time left to accomplish what I needed to in this world.”
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