“Yeah, and what’s gonna protect you?”
Cole pulled out his Glock and grinned. “She’ll be enough for me.”
“Let’s hope so.” Angela sighed. “I’m starting to like this idea less and less.”
***
It was a bumpy ride, and a short one at that. The clearing led straight to Colony Pines. Cole only had to take down a few overgrown branches that were in his path before he rammed his van straight through a wooden privacy fence, practically shattering the obstruction upon impact. The only thing he hadn’t accounted for was the full-sized in-ground pool.
Matt and Angela watched from a ways behind as Cole tore through the fence. He veered to the left, revealing the pool directly ahead of him. There was a screech and a crash, and the house in front shifted a little.
Matt pulled up beside the wrecked van. As Cole climbed out, he rolled down his window and said, “Watch out for those houses. They tend to just pop up out of nowhere, you know.”
Cole looked up and winced. “No shit.”
“You okay?” Angela asked.
“I just ran into a house, Angela, what do you think?”
“Ah, it’s not that bad, Cole,” Matt said. “Barely put a hurtin’ on the house.”
CHAPTER 25
“Please,” one of the whores begged. Her voice was hoarse, worn out from her captor’s lashings. “Can’t you just let us go?”
“I’m afraid that’s just not in your cards, sweetheart.” Randy watched from the threshold of the makeshift dungeon—a child’s room, with the walls painted a light blue and stickers of animated race cars racing in all directions.
She struggled from her sitting position, both arms tied at the wrists flailing, seeking freedom. The arms from the two bound women to the right of her moved as if she were their puppeteer and they were the puppets, unable to move on their own free will because death had finally, mercifully embraced them over the night. The room began to stink of it. The whore to the left of her cried some more as her arms were forced into motion with the others.
“Bastard!” The puppeteer spit onto the ground before him.
“Now that’s not a nice thing to say, is it?”
The one on the left, the hysterical friend of the crucified whore back at the church, began praying.
Randy laughed, and admired how the stillness of the house made his voice echo throughout. His lips peeled back. “God won’t help you, little girl. No one will.”
He shut the door and strolled down the hall and into the kitchen, where he made himself a sandwich from the remains of what the former homeowners had left behind. He sat at the dinner table, contemplating what his next actions should be. Indeed, those survivors deserved to die. But it wasn’t like he could just search the neighborhood for them. More than likely that would end up getting him killed. Though he hadn’t heard anymore gunshots since waking up this morning, it was more than possible there were still plenty of deaders around, and he only had the pistol he found back at the church and one full magazine. It wouldn’t be enough to pull him out of a tight spot. With only two whores left, both approaching their final destination, he wouldn’t have any distractions left soon, either.
The bright side to his story was the fact his new kingdom sat at the beginning of the neighborhood. If fate so had it, Randy Clyde would see their vehicles passing by one day—possibly allowing him to track them. Looking out the window he saw flakes of snow being whisked away with a powerful gust, flakes which surely would have covered the survivors’ previous tracks. He would have to wait. In the meantime, he still had two women left to entertain him.
Licking a bit of mayo which had fallen from the sandwich to his lips, Randy slid out of the chair and headed down the hall, whistling one of his favorite songs. He took with him a knife. It really wasn’t nice for that bitch to spit at him. A few cuts here and there would teach her a little respect before she died.
CHAPTER 26
Smoke billowed out from under the bent hood of Cole’s van as Matt drove off. Cole showed no signs of injury other than a slight limp in his right leg. Matt wondered if his friend was hurt more than he showed, or if maybe his adrenaline hid the pain.
“Would you quit lookin’ in the mirror like I can’t see you?” Cole said, crouched between the two seats, hands gripping either for support. “I’m fine.”
“If you say so,” Angela said.
Matt kept his mouth shut and focused on the road. The house to which this particular path had led was at the end of a cul-de-sac. The snow on this road, like all roads visible from the intersection Matt had pulled up to, appeared untouched, as if in some dimension where the dead actually stayed dead, not rising and mutating and killing.
“Which way?” Matt asked as he pulled up to the intersection.
“Take a left,” Cole said. “Follow this road until the end then take a right.”
Matt followed the directions and was reminded of childhood dreams about Christmas and Santa and all things warm and mushy. God, this place really is untouched by the dead, unless they’re all in the houses. Matt drove slowly so Cole and Angela could get a view, because it was just that. And it was not to be missed. Cars and vans hunkered in driveways and in front of the houses, all covered with at least two or three inches of snow.
As he drove, a thunderous boom erupted from behind them. The ground shook, and Matt glanced in the rearview to see a mushroom cloud shoot into the sky. He immediately applied the brakes. When the van came to a screeching halt, Cole climbed over the supplies and hopped out the back door. Angela and Matt followed.
“What the hell was that?” Cole said.
“Maybe you hit the gas line on the house or dislodged it with the impact,” Matt offered.
“But what would ignite it?” Angela asked, growing comfortably close to Matt, nearly touching hands.
“Something from the van, maybe?” Matt said, a little unsure if Angela consciously wanted to move that close or if she’d done so out of pure shock. Judging by the way she eyed him, it was the former. Instead of taking her hand, he reached for his pistol. He’d been in an explosion or two that hadn’t been occasioned by “natural” causes, and those memories brought back the thought of waking up to a collapsed house surrounded by the dead. “I think we should go and not find out what did that, okay?”
“I’m with you on that,” Cole agreed. “No good can come from this.”
Matt holstered his pistol, realizing even though there had been an explosion, there was no immediate threat. He looked to Angela and offered her a smile, coming to understand that he’d used the weapon as a way to avoid the fact she had been so close. Next time, he promised.
It didn’t help that Cole kept looking over, nodding to him and then Angela and teasing with a grin. Matt noticed a flicker of pain in Cole’s face every time he stepped with his left leg. He wondered at the extent of the injury. There wasn’t any blood seeping through his friend’s pants, so it was probably just a bruise. Probably.
Matt hopped back into the van and probed, “How’s your leg?”
“How’s your aim?”
“Could be better.” Matt put the transmission in drive, released the parking brake, and took off.
“Exactly.”
Matt followed the street to its end and took a right. From here, he took an immediate left, putting him on the main road out of the neighborhood. The only problem was that this exit was more than likely blocked off by the auto graveyard. There were still no tread marks or footsteps to be seen on the road.
Matt looked to the clock on the van’s radio and let out a sigh. Seven minutes before noon. They should have been at the home improvement store by now.
***
“We should pack the Escalade, that’s all I’m suggesting!” Tim roared. “I don’t want to leave them. I just think it would be safe if we had some supplies in our vehicles. We should even put some in the truck too.”
“He’s got a point, Mary,” Jeff said reluctantly. “They mentioned having a backup plan, an
escape route for if things get too out of shape here.”
“Yeah, well, I’m about tired of Dr. Grant here suggesting anything about leaving, especially when my boyfriend’s out there getting shit so that he,” Mary stabbed a finger at the doctor, “can survive!”
The old man looked to her, then at Jeff and Alex. “I’m just saying that it’s better safe than sorry.”
“No. That’s not what the hell you were saying. Don’t try to play games with me. You want to get out of here and to your precious fucking facility. If you wanna pack the vehicles with supplies, fine. But don’t talk to me about ‘safe and sorry.’ I’m about tired of your shit, Tim. You’re high all the time, taking a pill an hour, it seems. You don’t get to suggest anything, because you’re not thinking clearly. It’s a fucking miracle you’re still alive.”
“This coming from one of the dirty dopers?” Tim leaned against the fridge, eyes frosted with inebriation, lips stretched into a grin.
“It was a pair of dirty dopers who rescued you, old man, and they’re out there fighting the odds to bring back what we need and what you need. The least you can do is show a little respect and word your sentences a little more carefully.” Mary stormed out of the room and into the basement, where most of the backup supplies had been stored.
Tim looked to Jeff. “I don’t understand what her problem is.”
Jeff rubbed his forehead and then slid his hand to his chin, letting out a sigh.
When they were on the road together, Tim had mentioned several times that he had a family and they were probably dead from the bombings. It was amazing enough the overbearing doctor had found someone who could tolerate his demeanor; and it was even more amazing how cold and emotionless his voice was when he’d first told him of their supposed passing. It was like the man could cut ties and not think anything of it, other than it was what needed to be done.
Mary saw that same lack of emotion in the man and had grown tired of him. But it didn’t change the fact that the good doctor was on to something. Jeff remembered the old phrase: If there’s time to lean, there’s time to clean.
Well, there was time for both and then some, it seemed.
***
“Is that what I think it is?” Angela pointed to one of the yards on the right.
“Yep,” Matt answered as the stack of snow grew closer. “It’s Frosty.”
“What?” Cole said from behind.
Matt brought the van to a stop several yards before the one that had a fresh snowman in its center. There was even a carrot for a nose and charcoal for its eyes, mouth, and buttons. The house behind it was a single-story brick rancher. Two vehicles sat in the driveway: a minivan and a BMW sedan.
Cole leaned forward. “Well I’ll be damned. I know that guy.”
“Really?” Matt said. “I do, too.”
“You two are stupid.” Angela opened her door.
“Yeah, and you like it,” Matt said.
She smirked and shut her door. Matt watched for a moment as she gazed at the snowman.
“When you gonna make a move on her, man?” Cole nudged his shoulder. “You ain’t a pussy, are you?”
“Soon.”
“Yeah, well I’d jump on that as soon as possible.” He lifted his hands mockingly. “Just sayin’.”
“Don’t you think we should be a little more concerned about Frosty and how he came to be?” Matt said.
“You might be right, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re too much of a puss to make a move on her.”
“Uh-huh,” Matt said, sliding out of his seat and shutting the door. He walked up to Angela, who was staring at the house.
“You think we should just go up and knock on the front door?” she asked.
“No,” Matt answered, looking at the house. “If they’re anything like us, I imagine they’ll be armed and ready to kill.”
“I really doubt that,” Angela said confidently. “A kid built that with its parents. You really think they’d shoot us for knocking?”
Matt shrugged.
“So if we’re not knocking, what are we doing?” Cole asked, walking up to the two.
When no one answered, he added, “I think we should just let them be. If they are a family, I’m sure that they wouldn’t want us bothering them.”
“It’s by the grace of God that they survived this long,” Angela said, looking back at Matt. “Maybe they’re the ones who moved all those cars out on Denbigh.”
“Doubtful,” Matt said. “The man of the house wouldn’t have left his family to do all that. Priorities.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Cole said. “It doesn’t matter…” He paused.
Matt peeled his eyes from Angela’s and looked to his friend. Cole was staring at a lone figure beside the snowman, which immediately captured Matt’s attention. “Is that a…?”
Suddenly and abruptly, the front door of the rancher opened. A man rushed out with what appeared to be a .38 special pointed at Cole. All three immediately raised their hands in surrender.
“Hey,” Angela shouted, “we’re human.”
Matt felt his pistol burning a hole in his back. The damn thing practically called to him, but he knew if he made a move, the man would shoot. He didn’t feel like having the death of either of his friends on his conscience.
“Come on, sweetie,” the man said to the little child, steadying his aim with his left hand and reaching out with his right. The small figure the three had seen came out from behind Frosty. It was wearing a little outfit just right for the weather. The child ran, nearly tripping several times.
“Hey, bud,” Matt reasoned. “We were just passing by. Don’t want any problems with you and yours. Trust me.” He gritted his teeth at the thought of having a loaded gun pointed at him, and to make things worse he saw that the revolver aimed his way was shaking. Disposing of this untrained survivor should be easy enough if it came to that.
Those thoughts diminished when the child ran up to the man with arms wide open. “Daddy, Daddy,” yelled a little girl’s voice. The look on the man’s face as he tried to hide the softness in his heart, the love for that little girl, revealed he was no killer. He was just protecting his own.
“Are those people?” the little girl asked as the man gently moved her behind him. “Or are they the monsters?”
“We’re no monsters, baby girl,” Angela said, kneeling down.
“You don’t talk to my daughter,” the man ordered in what had to be his “tough guy” voice, which wasn’t that tough at all. He was like a child standing up to its parent, knowing it would get punished, praying that it didn’t. “Go inside, Lilly.”
The girl ran to the side of the house, probably going for the back door, where Matt assumed she’d originally come from. Before the tough guy could take his eyes off her ghost, the little girl screamed.
He jumped off the porch and yelled, “Lilly! Hold on, baby!” He broke into a fevered run, dismissing the presence of the survivors.
“Should we help?” Angela asked, but Matt and Cole were already reaching for their pistols, so she did the same.
Another earsplitting scream filled the air.
“Dammit.” Cole was in motion, limping a little. The others were right behind him.
Three shots went off. The man had three left, possibly two if it was a five-shooter. A pair of shots blared as the trio rounded the rear corner.
Angela nearly knocked the child to the ground as she came screaming back around the side of the house. Matt watched as the girl clung to Angela’s left leg. A certain look came into Angela’s eyes: loss, sadness—purpose.
When the backyard was in sight, Matt saw what the man had been firing at. There were two corpses on the ground and one circling behind him. Instead of snarling, this one gave a choking bark, shit-brown fluid seeping from its mouth. The man held the revolver, but wasn’t aiming it; he was probably out of rounds. The determination in his eyes bled to his gun hand, tightening the sinews of his forearm.
Ano
ther figure appeared, this time at one of the windows on the back of the house. A woman watched with horror as the zombie lunged at—and missed—what had to be her husband. She laid eyes on the three survivors, one of whom had her daughter clinging to her leg. She screamed something, but Angela’s gunshot drowned the sounds with a pop.
The barking zombie caught sight of the others and snarled, spilling a heap of that brown stuff onto the snow in front of it as Angela’s shot holed its neck. Matt and Cole fired in succession, peppering the thing with bullets, more than one of which hit the mark between the thing’s eyes.
The man turned toward them and raised his hands, surrendering.
“Put your hands down, man,” Cole said. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
The back door opened and the wife came flying out, pointing a shotgun at Cole. “Give me back my daughter!”
The girl took off running. “Mommy!”
“Lilith!”
“What are you doing?” Matt yelled. “We just saved his ass, and you’re gonna come out here pointing a gun at us? You’re insane, lady.”
“It’s okay, Meredith,” the man said, lowering his arms.
Meredith lowered the shotgun and hugged her little Lilly as the child reached for her.
“They killed the bad man,” Lilly said.
“I know, baby. I know.” Meredith eyed the newcomers with fading hostility. “Was that you over there?” She didn’t need to motion in the direction from which they had come for Matt to understand what she was talking about the explosion. When neither he nor Cole nor Angela responded, she got her answer. Rolling her eyes, she picked up Lilly with her free arm. “We can thank them, Paul, for that little bit of activity, then. We haven’t seen any of those demons in over a week.”
“Uh,” Matt stumbled a bit, trying to make the right choice in words, “I’m not so sure that we caused that explosion, and I’m also pretty sure that those guys,” he nodded to the unmoving corpses, “didn’t find you because of it.”
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