The Apocalyse Outcasts

by Peter Meredith

“Thanks,” Jillybean said. She didn’t think there was much chance that Sarah was going to help. Jillybean couldn’t help but notice the wall the lady had set up between them. It had been very hurtful until Ipes had explained Sarah’s problems as a mother: she didn’t think she was a good one. Her real daughter, missing and likely dead, her baby had been kidnapped and now Sadie was on the verge of dying from pneumonia.

  This was going through Jillybean’s head when Sarah rushed into the kitchen in a state of excitement. “Jillybean may have been right. Maybe we can get antibiotics somewhere else. I just need a phone book! Practically every veterinarian should carry some sort of antibiotic, right? I just need a phonebook.”

  The three spread out, searching. Neil found a phonebook in the hall closet and by the time Nico came in from hiding the truck, Sarah had ripped out ten pages from it and was dragging him back out again.

  They were gone for hours and in the end came back with only a bag of dog treats to show for their troubles. In all that time, Sadie remained in a deep sleep. She could be awakened with great effort, however she was so out of it that it didn’t seem worth it. Her breathing grew worse with every passing hour.

  “Someone beat us to every veterinarian clinic. Every single one,” Sarah said in a hollow whisper as she saw Sadie. “What are we going to do? She’s going to die, Neil. We can’t let her die!”

  “We’ll take her to the Whites,” Neil said. Although the race war of Philadelphia had ended, the groups had yet to intermingle and so the people in the walled off country club were still known as the Whites. “If I know John, he’ll take her in.”

  Nico shook his head. “Nyet. I know Yuri. He has spies in White group. They will kill my Sadie.”

  “Damn it!” Sarah seethed. She pounded her fist on the phone book and then shoved it away. “Sadie…Sadie is going to die either way if we don’t do something. Do you understand, Nico? She’s going to die unless we can get her some medicine or something. This is my fault. I’ve been too preoccupied worrying about Eve. I just thought Sadie would get better.”

  “I did too,” Nico said.

  Sarah went to the wall and slumped down it and stared glassily at the floor. After a while she covered her face and said, “I don’t have any more ideas. Can you help her, Jillybean? Or Ipes? Does Ipes have any ideas? Please think of something!”

  Jillybean was in the process of picking up the phonebook, but now she froze at the request. “You want me to figure out how to fix her? I don’t think I can. I don’t know anything about medicine.”

  “You can try,” Sarah said. “Just figure something out. Go on.”

  “No, Sarah,” Neil said, shaking his head. “We can’t lay this on a seven-year-old. Jillybean is smart, but she doesn’t have magic powers. She can’t heal people and it’s wrong to even ask. We need antibiotics and we know where to get them. We’re going to have to take our chances with the Whites. I say we leave at first light.”

  This seemed the only logical choice and the house went quiet as each realized that they were going to be exposing themselves to who-knew-how-many bounty hunters. It stood to reason that if there was one after them, there could be a dozen, or more.

  In a pensive silence, broken only by Sadie’s wheeze, Neil barbequed the vegetables turning the house hazy just as Jillybean had predicted. The veggies were good, yet no one seemed to enjoy them at all. Neil sat in with Sadie and fanned her with a newspaper as her fever spiked.

  As a child of the digital age who had grown up with Google only a click away, Jillybean was intrigued by the phonebook. She thumbed through the yellow pages, looking at all the advertisements and then out of curiosity she looked up her own phone number. It wasn’t there. She found the Shaws, but neither of her parents was listed. Her father’s name was William Shaw, and the names in the book went from Wilhelm Shaw to Whythers Shaw.

  She thought it an odd name and she pointed it out to Ipes. “What’s that mean after his name? The D and the R?” she asked in a low voice.

  It means he’s a doctor, Ipes replied. There were a few seconds of silence between them as the repercussions of those two letters sunk in.

  “I think I know where we might maybe get some medicine,” Jillybean said. She pointed at the name she had discovered. “There are doctors in this phonebook. It lists their houses, where they live, you know? They might have pills in them. There are leftover pills, like aspirin, in almost all the houses but a doctor’s house might have the right kind of pills we need.”

  “Maybe,” Sarah said, gazing down at the hundreds of names on the page. “They could, but that might mean a whole lot of running around for nothing. I mean, I don’t think doctors generally keep medicine at their houses.”

  “What about veterinarians?” Neil asked, standing up in excitement. “Doctors don’t make house calls, but there are a lot of vets who still do…or I mean they used to. They gotta have meds.” In his excitement he snatched the phone book from Jillybean and began running his fingers down the column on his side, while Sarah did the same thing on the other page.

  “Which are doctors and which are vets?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Neil said. “They’re both technically doctors. But, wait! The yellow pages that you took. We can just do a reverse look up. We get the names from the ads and look them up in the white pages.”

  Not every advertisement came with a vet’s name, but four did and two had lived relatively close by before the apocalypse.

  Neil and Nico left in a great rush, in spite of the fact that it was deep night and dangerous. Nico went armed with the twelve-gauge, while Neil borrowed Sarah’s Beretta.

  When they were gone, driving slowly away, going without lights to keep their location secret from any bounty hunters that might be nearby, Sarah smiled at Jillybean. “This is going to work. I know it. It’s going to work because of you, Jillybean. Tell me…can you promise me something?”

  Never make blind promises, Ipes warned. You don’t know what you’re getting into. There could be strings attached. There could be repercussions.

  “I guess so,” Jillybean said, cautiously. “Maybe.”

  Sarah seemed to take that as a yes. “Promise me you’ll always stay with Neil and Sadie.”

  This seemed like an odd promise, but also one that was going to be easy to live by, or so she thought. She was about to tell Sarah that she would, but Ipes stopped her. Tell her you have provisions of your own. Tell her you want something out of the deal.

  “Only if you help Ipes,” Jillybean said, holding up the shoebox to show the abused little zebra. “He got hurted.”

  Sarah took the shoebox and with surprising tenderness touched Ipes on his broad cheek. Amazingly she began to cry, something that Jillybean wasn’t at all prepared for. “I heard,” Sarah said. “Neil told us. He told us you were very brave.”

  “Ipes was the brave one,” Jillybean said, trying to deflect the compliment. She didn’t know how to deal with a crying adult and felt a strange sense of embarrassment for the woman. “Ipes told me not to say anything about Sadie no matter what.”

  Sarah swallowed hard and looked on the verge of saying something, but then she gently took the zebra from the shoebox. When his head fell to the side in an awful manner she cried even harder.

  “You can fix him, right?” Jillybean asked, as fresh anxiety coursed through her. What would happen if Sarah couldn’t fix Ipes’ neck? Could Jillybean make him a neck brace? Or fit him with a collar or a napkin ring, like the fancy ones her mom used when they had company for dinner back in the old days?

  “I need thread and a sewing needle,” Sarah said. “And I’ll need one of those little pillows on the couch. Hopefully they have fluff in them instead of foam.”

  It was fluff. Jillybean couldn’t watch the operation. She had to leave the room after Ipes fainted early on and stayed in the kitchen with her ear pressed against the door and a feeling that her stomach was in her throat.

  Sarah called her a little later. Jilly came into t
he living room with small steps. “He’s ready,” Sarah said. She held up the zebra and like a miracle his neck was stiff again.

  “You did it?” Jillybean asked, blinking and feeling odd in the guts. “That fast? And look! His stomach is fat again, like it used to be when…”

  Her words trailed off as a memory woke in her: she had been three years old. There was pain in her head…no, in her ears that wouldn’t go away. She was in the hospital sitting on her Daddy’s lap, waiting to have an operation. She was very scared and clung to him fiercely.

  Her Daddy had held out Ipes to her and he was very new-looking. His white stripes were just that, white, not the dingy grey they had become and his mane had stood up tall but soft and his belly was so fat it was round like a little pumpkin.

  That’s where he keeps his cookies, her Daddy had told her. He loves cookies and as long as you keep him filled up with cookies he’ll always be your friend and he’ll always protect you.

  Even in the osceration? Jillybean had asked.

  Yes, even in the osceration, her Daddy had told her in the wise manner he used sometimes when he thought something was very important for Jilly to know. So what are you going to name him?

  Stripes, she said without thinking. Not thinking was something her Daddy did not approve of and he gave her a look that hinted she try again.

  Stripes? he scoffed. Do you want someone to mistake him for a common raccoon or, heaven forbid, a skunk?

  How about Ipes?

  Her Daddy had looked at Ipes and nodded his approval. Ipes is a great name.

  “Thank you,” Jillybean said, right there in the living room, feeling her eyes begin to water.

  Mistaking that the little girl was talking to her, Sarah replied, “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 7

  Neil Martin

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  Neil drove without the headlights on for only about a mile before turning onto the highway. Once there, due to the ghastly figures that he frequently plowed into and over, he could go only a little further before he was forced to chance the lights.

  Treading zombies beneath the wheels of the Dodge pickup always made him feel queasy. Beside him, Nico was mature enough not to comment on Neil’s groaning. Nico was a good man; a fine combination of courage and caution, and quiet contemplation. Neil suspected Nico was so quiet because he wasn’t the smartest of people. And that was fine too, because it showed what he lacked in raw intelligence, he made up for it in common sense.

  With the headlights raking the night, Neil picked up speed, hoping to get to the first house on the list, find the right kind of medicine, and get home again as soon as possible. He hated being out at night. The zombies seemed to multiply when the sun went down. Even on the highway they were everywhere, making for a ghastly trip.

  “I think light is make worse,” Nico said.

  Neil had to agree. He was swerving back and forth attempting to miss the beasts that flung themselves at the truck. It was perilous driving at such speeds; if he happened to hit one the wrong way it could conceivably come up and smash in his windshield. A prospect that left him even queasier. Regardless, he didn’t slow a whit. Sadie was in deep trouble. Neil was sure her life hung in the balance and that the next twenty-four hours would decide things one way or another.

  “This is exit,” Nico said pointing them off the highway. On the side streets, the zombies came thick as flies, and Neil was forced to turn off the headlights. Because of the dark, and the frequent obstructions, they slowed to a speed that was only slightly faster than a walk and it was a quarter after eleven before they found the first house. Even from the street, it was clear that it had been ransacked. In fact, few houses looked as purposefully destroyed as the three stories of brick and ivy which had once been the home of Evan Addison VMD. Every window was broken and every door leveled. Its front yard was strewn with clothes and trash.

  “We go to next,” Nico said, squinting up at it. “We spend all night to look in house and we find nothing since people is been here already.”

  “No,” Neil said, shaking his head. “We look, but only in his study or office. A place like this, the guy had to have an office. And we’ll look in the garage. That’s it. We’ll be done in ten minutes.”

  It took twelve. The house was not only zombie free, it was also medicine free, and it didn’t take long to hurry through it with their flashlights slicing up the night. Their truck was still warm when they slid back in. Neil was about to start it when Nico grabbed his hand. In the dark his eyes looked huge.

  “What?” Neil whispered.

  Nico put his finger to his lips and turned to look out the front window. Neil saw nothing and heard only the moans of the dead. Slowly he began to run his window down and when he did he caught the low sound of a car’s engine.

  “Bounty hunter?” Nico asked in a whisper. Neil slunk down low in his seat. The Russian did the same

  “Who else would be out for a drive at night?” Neil asked. “He must have followed us.”

  “Da. It was car light of ours. Is easy to see at night.”

  Neil bit back the words: No shit. Instead, he flicked the dome light in the roof of the cab to off. He then slid out of the truck with axe in hand. Pausing only to try to fix the sound of the bounty hunter’s car with a position—generally east of them—he went to the rear of the vehicle and, as quietly as he could, smashed in the taillights.

  When he got back in, he started the engine and then checked for any useless lights, even going so far as to dim the dashboard lights.

  “Is good and dark,” Nico said, stretching the limits of his conversational ability.

  “Yeah,” Neil agreed. “Roll down your window so we can hear that other car if it approaches. Also, no using the flashlight. If you need to check the map, get under the blankets, capisce?”

  “Da, except what is word, ca-peesh? What is that?”

  As Neil pulled away from the curb, he explained, “It’s slang from the Italian: to understand. It’s what all the Jersey eye-talians say. I’m sure the tense is never taken into account.”

  “Then, da, I ca-peesh.”

  “Good,” Neil said.

  He drove even slower now, worried far more about the bounty hunter than the zombies. Eventually the sound of the other car died away and Neil made it back to the highway without incident. He went south at a snail’s pace, chugging along as the minutes went by, each one bringing Sadie closer to death. He was so caught up in his worry over his daughter that he let one precious second slip by when headlights suddenly flicked on behind them. They were at least a mile back, but still their very presence sent a ripple of panic through Neil.

  “The bounty hunter!” Neil cried. “What do I do?”

  “What? Go fast,” Nico urged pointing at the zombie-filled highway.

  Neil stomped on the gas and then when a different thought struck him, he hit the break, jolting the two of them. The Dodge truck wasn’t a vehicle that lent itself to fast getaways and car chases. The hunter was still far enough away that Neil thought it would be better to hide the truck, and what better way to hide it than in plain sight?

  Stalled vehicles were a dime-a-dozen on the highway. Neil pulled in behind one and at first was simply going to park behind it. Instead he crashed into it. They weren’t going fast, but still Nico let out a string of Russian curses.

  “Get your gun,” Neil shouted over him. He pulled out the keys and then leapt from the vehicle, running to a drainage ditch on the side of the road where he laid down in the tall grass. A second later Nico joined him. As any good soldier would, he trained his shotgun outwards, but Neil pulled him low.

  “We’re outgunned,” he told Nico. “If he gets out of his car and heads this way, then we’ll shoot, but not before.” Neil’s Beretta was in his hands and he didn’t remember drawing it. As the lights came closer, he clicked off the safety.

  “Neil!” the Russian, hissed, pulling at his sleeve.

  A zombie was head
ing right at them. It wasn’t much more than a rag-covered half-person, but under the circumstances it was as deadly as any. With the vehicle approaching and the zombie practically on top of them, there was only one thing to do. “Play dead,” Neil whispered. He then half-closed his eyes. From the cracks of his lids he could see Nico fighting the idea.

  Neil kicked him.

  Then the bounty hunter was there. He slowed his Jeep at the sight of the Dodge Ram crushing in the rear hatch of a VW Bus. There was silence save for the moans of the dead and the purr of the Jeep. A second later a beam of light swept the Dodge. Next, the light ran over the drainage ditch passing over the tips of the grass and across the toes of Nico’s boots. It kept going and then swung back.

  The light was right over Neil’s midsection. It was like a movie projector; he could see particles in the air floating gently. The light moved up; he thought it a strange direction until the zombie stepped full onto his stomach.

  A grunt escaped him, which, in any other setting would have doomed him. However the zombie was fully focused on the light and the sound of the engine. After stumbling for a step or two it went at the Jeep, going faster as the ground flattened. The bounty hunter did not waste a bullet. He scanned the ditch one more time and then drove off, speeding in the direction Neil had to go.

  “Crap,” Neil said, jumping up. The zombie had been watching the Jeep drive off, now it began to turn, but before it could, Neil kicked its legs out from under it. Since he had been vaccinated, small or skinny zombies didn’t scare him. He stood on its neck and beckoned Nico. “Let’s go. We have to find another route.”

  In no time they were in the Dodge and racing back the way they had come from. Nico, who was under a blanket with a map in one hand and a flashlight in the other, asked, “He find us very simple. Does he know where we go?”

  Neil shrugged, a move that Nico couldn’t possibly see. “I doubt it. Jillybean said he was a ‘noticing’ kind of man. We know he saw our lights and followed us. After that, who knows? I can only guess that he watched how the zombies were reacting.”