The Undead World (Book 10): The Apocalypse Sacrifice

by Peter Meredith

  “See, no knot. Mister Captain Grey just has to make sure not to drop the ends.” She threw each end across the chasm individually and Grey caught each. He ran the rope through his fingers until it grew taut.

  “Get her close to the edge,” he said.

  Jillybean slid Emily to the edge of the bridge and tried to lean back, however the baby had caught a fistful of her flyaway hair. She was trying to stuff it in her mouth. “I’m gonna miss you,” Jillybean whispered as she tugged away her hair. “She’s ready.”

  Deanna was looking back and forth from Grey to Emily, her useless fear ramping up. The only way that Emily would fall was if the rope broke, which it wouldn’t, or if it slipped out of Grey’s hands, which he would never allow to happen. Before Deanna could get too worked up again, Grey pulled back on his two sections of rope and the carseat dropped off the bridge. For one wild moment, it looked as though Emily would drop forever. All around her were shadows and nightmare creatures, grasping hungrily for her. The image sent a spike into Jillybean’s heart and she gasped at the same instant as Deanna.

  In reality, the child did not fall far. She dropped in a pendulous arc, swung back and forth in wide-eyed wonderment a few times and then was quickly hoisted up by Captain Grey. When she was safe on the other side she was smothered in kisses.

  Jillybean watched and a part of her was deeply envious. Emily was loved and cherished, exactly like every child should be—like Jillybean should be. As she watched, Sadie faded into the black of the night and the whispers died away, and in a way that was worse. She felt empty and alone. Completely empty and completely alone. If a wind pushed down from the mountains just then, she was sure that it would blow her out to sea where there was nothing but wind and water.

  “Now your turn,” Neil said. The sound of his voice jerked her back into the present. He held the rope. In his joy, Captain Grey had forgotten all about it and her. “Wrap it twice around you,” Neil said, poking his thumbs up into his armpits. “Right here. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

  He wasn’t lying. He would catch her and haul her up, singlehandedly and he would smile at her and hug her and for a few seconds, everything would be great. But then what? Accusations, recriminations, punishment and forever being looked upon with suspicion. She was too tired for any of that.

  “Highway 203 to 18 to the 5 to 16, across the bridge and then all the way around,” she repeated. “Just wait for the explosions before you go.”

  “No!” Neil shouted, his voice echoing across the river. “You are not going anywhere, young lady. I am your father, remember? I adopted you and you said yes. You—you don’t get to take that back.” He had started firm and commanding, however in the space of four sentences, his voice cracked. “I-I did not come all this way just for Emily.”

  “You love me,” Jillybean stated, in a soft, emotionless voice. “You followed me because you love me, I know that. And I led you here because I love you, that’s what Sadie told me. But, I think we have to let that go, now. I’m starting to get the feeling that love isn’t enough, not when things get too brokeded. I loved Sadie and she still died and now…” She left off with a shrug. The barren feeling inside felt as though it was spreading and would soon swallow all of them. “I should go.”

  She turned to leave when Sadie yanked her back around with a hand that felt cold and stiff; like a corpse’s hand. Not yet. Tell him I love him. Please. I never got to say goodbye.

  “Okay,” Jillybean said. “One more thing. Sadie loves you, Mister Neil. She told me to tell you that.” Neil’s mouth came open and began to work up and down like a landed fish. In another time, she might have smiled.

  Before she could turn again, Captain Grey stepped to the edge and said a bunch of words that flowed over her. He pleaded with her, and then he got mad and growled orders, and then, when that didn’t work, he tried to guilt her into staying. Had she not been so empty, she might have appreciated that he was trying to save her.

  She turned once more to leave and that was when he shot his pistol. It was a huge gun that was shockingly loud. She jumped and Emily began crying. “That’s it?” Grey demanded, his words finally hitting her. “After all this running around, you’re just going to leave?”

  “I’m not done yet,” she told him. “There’s still…” Killing, blood, explosions, death. “…work for me to do. Good bye.”

  Once more she turned and he stopped her with a last bit of advice. “Ice cold or fiery hot, Jillybean, you don’t go into a fight lukewarm.”

  It was sound advice, but since she couldn’t even muster the energy for lukewarm, she didn’t think she would be able to follow it. She waved and walked off into the murk.

  When she got to the Camry, Sadie was waiting for her, a hard look on her face. You can’t do lukewarm? What’s that about? Those people killed me, Jillybean. They killed Spot and they’ve been terrorizing the people of Bainbridge, and you can’t manage lukewarm?

  “It’s just that I’m so tired. I want to sleep, maybe forever. I just don’t have the energy.” What she meant was that she didn’t have the energy to fight and to win. She only had enough energy to fight and die.

  Could I help?

  “No, I don’t think so. Unless you can haunt them. You know like Casper, ’cept not so friendly. That would be good.” A mischievous smile lit up her face at the thought.

  I wish I could, but there’s a reason that only you can see me. The smile disappeared from Jillybean’s face and at the same time the whispers started again creeping around the floorboards and beneath the seats and in the dark crevices in the back.

  “Why?” The question was the embodiment of her exhaustion. The word barely left her lips.

  You know why.

  She did know and she always knew, at least on some level. Regardless, she was crushed and she couldn’t help crying, but even that took energy and the tears felt more like a leak had sprung from her face than anything that had to do with sadness or grief.

  Let me help, Sadie said. Let me be your anger. You can be the cold analytical part and I’ll be the fury of your revenge. Grey said to be one or the other. I say, be both.

  Chapter 48

  Jillybean

  She didn’t feel possessed. It wasn’t like the time that Eve had controlled her. During those times it felt as though she were a prisoner in her own body, locked in some deep dungeon where she could sometimes get a peek of the world through a tiny slit set high up in the walls.

  This was more like being on a drug, one that pumped her full of adrenaline and anger. It was difficult to be the cold, analytical part when she was just this hyped up. Difficult, but not impossible. For one, she knew from her knowledge of chemistry as well as her growing understanding of insanity that she would either burn through this energy quickly, or it would consume her completely.

  She had seen her share of people consumed by their own mind. Mike Jackson, the “dog-man” whom she called Spot was the last of these. There was no way he had simply woken up one day as a dog. Something had driven him to the point of no return and there had probably been a time when he saw the cliff coming up that he could have made some change, one that would have subverted fate. But he hadn’t.

  As Jillybean tore past the Alderwood Mall with her headlights on and her radio scanner screaming at her, the analytical part of her knew that her point of no return was fast approaching. “But not yet,” she said. “I’m still me.”

  Of course you are, who else would you be? Sadie’s voice was no longer external; she heard it right between her ears where there seemed to be more space than usual, not in an empty-headed sense but in the opposite way. Her head felt too large, bigger than it had been. It was as though her head was pumpkin-sized and overflowing with too many thoughts.

  Big head or not, Jillybean didn’t answer. She was a little afraid to engage her sister too much, worried that if she lived through the next hour she wouldn’t be able to kick Sadie out again.

  Besides, she was too busy concentr
ating for idle chit-chat. She was doing forty miles an hour and although she had her headlights on, she could still only see using the four cameras. The iPad screens were eight inches by ten, and objects in the road didn’t come into focus until it was almost too late to react. More than once she thudded right into one of the monsters.

  “Sorry,” she said, cringing as she bounced over the last one.

  There’s no time for being sorry, Sadie told her. They’re looking to cut you off. You’re going to have to step on it.

  “I am stepping on it,” she protested.

  No, this is stepping on it. Jillybean felt the engine begin to really thrum and was shocked to see the speedometer move past the 50 mile an hour mark.

  “Stop! I got this.” She lifted her foot off the pedal slowly as though there was a tremendous wad of gum on the waffle-imprinted sole of her right sneaker.

  She was about to hit the brake when she heard a voice from the scanner say: “This is Biggie-three, I got four cars at the 104. Do we have anyone in trail position yet? Advise, over.”

  “Not yet, Biggie-three. Keep them going south. We’re setting something up at the Northgate exit. Keep us posted if there’s any change in direction.”

  Jillybean let the Camry drift as she checked her map. It was a mile to the 104 and another two before they reached Northgate, which didn’t leave her a lot of time to plan or to get a better strength reading from the scanner. She was getting closer to the broadcast point, but “closer” didn’t mean all that much. She needed an exact fix.

  So far, part one of her plan was working. She had been seen by some hidden spotter and now she was on their radar. What she needed to do to ensure that her family would be able to slip by to safety was to stir up the hornets and, if possible, give their nest a hard kick. Destroying it completely would be nice, however the Camry was only so big and her reserves of energy were already red-lining.

  “We’ll get off at 130th…if we can,” she said. It was the exit before NorthGate.

  They were trying to bottle her up, but she wasn’t too worried; the armored Camry wasn’t going to be easy to stop. “Unless they lay down spike strips. But would they?” She was just thinking about how good tires weren’t as easy to come by anymore, when she passed the exit to Route 104. Headlights flicked on behind her, sending her heart racing faster than ever.

  Don’t fret, Sadie said, we have these. Jillybean found herself looking down at her own pale hand holding one of the smaller bombs. She was so surprised that she almost dropped the bomb, not that a short fall would have hurt it or set it off. At worst, it would drop beneath her seat and she would have to fish around for it, though that was not something she wished to do while hurtling toward a roadblock.

  “How am I supposed to use it?” Jillybean asked. “I didn’t have time to finish the car all the way. I don’t have bomb shooters or even a bomb dropper or nothing, and that’s what means we can’t use those bombs all that good.”

  You can chuck them out the window. Against her will, Jillybean’s head turned to the left so that she was staring at the slot which Sadie had cut out of the armor ages ago back in Colton after she hadn’t been able to figure out the intricate periscope system Jillybean had devised.

  “Stop it,” Jillybean whispered. She had meant to “command” Sadie, but she lacked the energy. “I-I’m in charge of my body.” She didn’t add: still or for the moment, which, given the circumstances, seemed appropriate. Sadie was growing inside her head by the second. It wasn’t in a bad way, just in a relentless way that Jillybean feared would eventually take her over.

  I’m just trying to help, Jillybean, Sadie said. And I think you need my help. Your head is like, all jumbled up. It reminds me of that house we ran through with Todd and Spot. You know, the one you set fire to? It was filled with useless garbage. Really, when will you ever need to know the atomic weight of hydrogen?

  “1.00794,” Jillybean whispered the number that just popped up into her head. She hadn’t known that she knew the atomic weight of hydrogen, however she did remember reading it months before, back when she spent the winter with Granny Annie.

  Did that mean Sadie was in her subconscious or just in some memory vault? “Wait…it doesn’t matter where she is. Sadie, you’re distracting me. I need to think.”

  No, you need to act. You got four cars on your tail and more about to cut you off. There’s no time for thinking. You need to start dropping bombs.

  Jillybean glanced at the rear monitor, where four set of headlights shone, all in a line. If she hit the first with a bomb, it would cause a chain reaction that would stop all pursuit, at least temporarily. But if she misjudged things or got an unlucky bounce, then she would have wasted a bomb as well as tipped her hand to her foes concerning her potential lethality.

  Just drop a bomb for goodness sakes! Sadie’s cry echoed in her head.

  “Yes, sorry.” Jillybean wanted to argue but couldn’t find it in her to even raise her voice. While steering with her right hand, she armed the bomb with a flick of her left thumb, stuck it in her lap, grabbed the remote controlled detonator and turned that on as well. Then she waited for a moment where there were enough obstructions in the road to funnel the following cars into a perfect line and then—“Fire in the hole,” she mumbled.

  The twin sticks of dynamite got hung up in the slot for just a breath, perhaps long enough to throw off her timing. Once they were away, she snatched up the detonator and counted: “One-one-thousand, two-one thousand,” before pressing the trigger with her eyes squeezed shut and her jaw clenched. Her precautions were for naught; as heard through the armor, the explosion seemed understrength.

  A quick check of the monitor showed that it had been at least somewhat effective. The bomb had gone off next to the rear quarter panel of the second vehicle, causing it to flip onto its side. It blocked the road behind but didn’t damage any of the other cars.

  Still, the voices on the scanner went berserk: “They got grenades! They got grenades! Rob caught one and his truck’s on fire.”

  “Settle the fuck down, Biggie Three,” the dispatcher ordered. “Has their course changed? Are you engaged?”

  “No, they’re still proceeding like before. What should I do? Rob’s truck is blocking the road and it’s just me and Albert.”

  “Follow, but keep a safe distance.”

  See? Sadie asked. I bought you some time for thinking. Jillybean now had a few more seconds to think and discovered that her brain wasn’t nearly so agile as it had been. It was sluggish and dull. Sadie had given her a spurt of fire and a little anger, but not much else.

  But did she need much more? Jillybean had trapped herself like a rat in a maze with hundreds of cobras. On the surface, there didn’t seem to be many options except to carry on with her simplistic plan.

  She came up to the 130th Street exit and the moment she took it, Biggie-Three told the world. This caused a major shift in the placement of the roadblocks and the dispatcher began ordering in more cars. Jillybean headed west on 130th Street and the further she went, the weaker the dispatcher’s signal got. “And that’s bad,” she said. “I’m getting further away instead of closer.”

  At the first opportunity, she turned south again, however after only a third of a mile she found the road was utterly blocked by the remains of an old traffic jam. As fast as she could, she turned the Camry around. It wasn’t a big car and yet, with her limited vision, she hit two monsters, a tree and ground up against a parked moving van.

  By then, Biggie-Three had his car, a shiny black Camaro with twin racing stripes, sitting across the road, completely blocking it. “They’re turning around!” he yelled into the radio. “Do I engage?”

  The dispatcher’s answer sent a chill down Jillybean’s back. “Yes, hold them there. We have three units closing in on your position.”

  I hope you have an idea, Sadie said, because we’re screwed if you don’t. Jillybean tried to think, only her head was suddenly blank. Aw, jeeze, Sadie said. We cou
ld try ramming them, I guess.

  Going straight through the Camaro seemed like her only choice. And yet ramming a larger car broadside would be a waste. Not only was the Camry underpowered, it was also overloaded. Stacked in the trunk, the roof storage space she had built, and in the back seat, was a half-ton of ANFO and dynamite. Enough to bring down a ten-story building. It, along with metal plating, strained the suspension and made the car sluggish off the mark.

  It would take five or six crashes to shove the Camaro out of the way and that was assuming Biggie-Three wouldn’t do anything but just sit there. By that time, whatever backup he had would be there further cutting Jillybean off.

  There was also a gap along the sidewalk that they could access by riding up on the lawn of the house on the corner, however it was a very small gap and one that could be cut off by the Camaro simply by it dashing forward twelve feet.

  You could always get out and run, Sadie suggested. I bet you could get away. You’re getting pretty fast.

  “I didn’t come here to get away,” she said. “I came here to distract them. Mister Neil must have heard that explosion. That’s what means they need my help even more. Boy, I wish I’d made a bomb shooter. I can’t throw a bomb far enough. Maybe I could tape one to a drone and fly it over…”

  The scanner interrupted her, “Biggie-Three, Milt will be there in one minute and whatshisname in the Porsche is coming up just south of you. Let me know if they try to run.”

  With only a minute, there was no time for planning or drones are anything. She grabbed one of the bombs and armed it, not quite knowing what to do next. If there had been enough room, she could have rolled up alongside and chucked the bomb through the cut out in the side armor.

  “That would do the trick, but there’s no room! Too bad I don’t have a big rubber band or something I could shoot the bomb out the front cutout.” But she didn’t have a rubber band that big. All she had was her weak arm and with such a small cutout to throw it through, she likely wouldn’t get the bomb beyond the hood. It would just roll around and fall off…in midthought an idea hit her. Wearing a manic little grin, she leaned forward and shoved the dynamite through the front cutout where it fell to land on the flat, armored hood.