The Demon Dead

by Arthur M Wyatt

  He stepped closer to the zombie keeping his weapon leveled at the things head.

  “I'm begging you mister, he's my Grandson. It's not his fault, just let him be,” the old man pleaded, “I'll take care of it when the time comes. It's my responsibility not yours.”

  John looked at the man then back at the zombie.

  “What's his name?” John asked

  “Ken,” the old man replied.

  By this time the gomer had opened the hatch on the gas tank, removed the cap and inserted the nozzle.

  He looked at John, droopy eyed with his swollen tongue hanging half way out of his mouth. Blood leaked from the corner of one eye.

  Amy watched all this from the front seat of the truck. She locked the doors and moved over to the other side of the cab.

  John and the gomer froze for a moment, each watching the other.

  “Fill her up…Ken,” John said finally.

  “You can put the gun down now,” the old man said.

  John lowered the shotgun a little but kept his hand on the trigger just in case.

  “Thank you mister,” the old man said, “what’s your name?”

  “John, yours?”

  “Just call me Pop's, everybody else does. Where you headed?”

  “Ok Pop's...I'm trying to get Amy to Columbia. Her family's there. Then I need to get to the coast. That's where my wife is. Does the gas pump work, we're almost out?”

  The zombie was standing at the truck tapping the blank screen on the gas pump with his bloody knuckle.

  “We have a generator around back. I'll turn it on,” Pops said.

  The old man walked around to the back of the old store. A few seconds later John heard the generator cough and come to life. The gas pump beeped a couple of times, the screen lit up and the gas started to flow.

  Ken looked at John and grunted his approval.

  John wondered why he had seen none of these gomers in town. To bad they couldn't all be like this guy, he thought. He kept his finger on the trigger. As these things continued to decay, who knows? They could become just like the rest of them. He would take these guys over your average every day zombie anytime. Especially over the demons. Those were some scary bastards.

  A couple of minutes later the old man came back around to the truck.

  “Did you cover up the old woman?” John asked.

  “Yep, we didn't see what happened. We were hiding out back. Damn shame, did you know her?”

  “She was the girl's Grandmother,” John said. “Can you help me bury her?”

  “I reckon,” Pops turned and pointed to a patch of woods behind the station. “We can bury her over there, or if you like we can bury her in the graveyard down to the church. It's not far.”

  “No the woods will be fine, we have to get back on the road soon.”

  The gas pump stopped. The tank was full. Ken replaced the nozzle and held his hand out to John.

  “Just give him a buck. He can't count anyways,” Pops said.

  “No I'll pay for the gas,” John answered.

  “Your money's no good now. Just give him the dollar and he'll go back inside,” Pops motioned toward Ken’s zombie as he spoke.

  John fished a dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to Ken who took it and stumbled back into the station. Walking over to the car, John opened the door and handed the pistol from his waistband to Amy.

  "Stay here with the doors locked. When we get the grave dug and put your Grandmother in it we'll come and get you so you can pay your last respects and say a few words before we cover her up. We're going to be right over there," John said as he pointed to the area where they were going to bury the woman. "I'll be able to see the truck from where I'm at so I'll keep an eye on you. If you see anything, a car coming or whatever, blow the horn, ok?"

  “What about that thing?” she asked.

  “You mean Ken?”

  “Yes, Ken, zombie, whatever.”

  “I don't think he'll be bothering you. If he does just blow the horn. Pops will take care of it.”

  Pops retrieved an old tarp from the station and they carefully wrapped the woman in the sheet and then rolled her up in the tarp. She was a small thin woman so they had no trouble carrying her to the edge of the woods. The old man had two shovels and the ground was wet and soft. They both started digging.

  “This will need to be a shallow grave,” John said as he pushed down on the spade with his foot. “Maybe two feet deep.”

  “You'll get no argument from me,” Pops said. “Bad back you know.”

  “Pops,” John stopped digging and looked at the old man, “you could come with us. We can make room.”

  “No. I can't leave him,” Pops said, “he knows me. I can tell. Somehow he knows me. I'm staying here. When the time comes, and it will, I'll put a bullet in his head myself.”

  Pops raised his shirttail and revealed a revolver.

  “It's loaded and I know how to use it,” Pops leaned on the shovel, looked down at the ground and let out a long sigh. “This is where I've lived my whole life you know,” he said pointing around in a circle. “Right here,” he stomped at the ground with one foot. “Born here and I reckon I'll die here. You go on. Find your wife and take that little girl to her family. Me, I got nothing. My Grandson's all I had. I'll stay here until the end. Whatever that is.”

  John nodded understanding then went back to the task at hand. After the hole was dug they gently lifted the old lady's body and placed her in the hastily dug grave.

  Just as John was going to get Amy the truck's horn blew.

  “Jesus Christ what now?” John said as he ran back toward the truck.

  The horn blew two more times then she laid into it and held it down. As John neared the truck he could see three zombies heading for them. They were running. Demons.

  “Hey!” John screamed knocking on the window, “lay off the horn I see them.”

  Pops was right behind him.

  “What now?” he said looking to John for instructions.

  “Get in the truck we can outrun them,” John shot back.

  “Already told you,” Pops said, “I'm not leaving.”

  “Shit!” John cursed. He opened the door of the truck, tossed the shotgun in and pulled his rifle out.

  “Amy start up the truck and stay in it until we take care of these guys. If anything happens to us take off. Alright?”

  Amy slammed the door and started the truck. John turned to Pops.

  “Ok, listen,” he started.

  Before he could finish Amy put the truck in gear and gunned the engine.

  “Damn,” Pops said. “She's leaving you.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” John replied, “she's got a score to settle.”

  John and Pops stood in the road and watched the truck barrel down the center going straight for the zombies.

  The three creatures continued down the middle of the road as the truck raced toward them. One of them side stepped and fell to the ground just as the truck reached them. The other two were hit and sent flying.

  Amy locked up the wheels and skidded to a stop. The third zombie regained his feet and turned. Amy put the truck in reverse and gunned the engine again. She caught up with it and ran it over in reverse. He went under the truck and flipped several times as he emerged from the other side. She stopped the truck and stepped out, the pump shotgun John had just thrown on the seat in her hands. A wisp of white smoke left the trucks exhaust as it sat idling in the road

  As they watched in astonishment she walked up to the zombie and blew its head off. She pumped the shotgun again and strode to where the other two lay writhing on the ground. First one shot then another boomed as she emptied the shotgun into them. When she was finished all three lay on the ground. Smoke rising from their mangled bodies and shattered skulls.

  “Well, guess you were right,” Pops commented, “that’s one tough broad.”

  Amy stood in the road for a moment looking down on the dead zombies. Her
chest heaving with each breathe.

  “I think you’re right,” John said.

  Amy walked back to the truck and got in. She put the truck in gear and did a three-point turn.

  John thought she would just drive back to them at this point but she backed up and ran over the third demon one more time. A blank look on her face.

  Slowly she drove back to where John and Pops stood and stopped. She stared out the window past them, her fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. John felt as if she was actually looking through them.

  “That’s the thousand yard stare,” Pops said, “my brother had it when he got back from Korea.”

  “She’s been through a lot,” John said, “I hate to think of what would have happened if I hadn’t been there to stop those two idiots.”

  “It wouldn’t have been good,” Pops said, “I can tell you that.”

  Pops walked over to the truck and tapped on the windshield. “Hey there little girl,” he said grinning, “remind me not to piss you off any time soon.”

  This brought Amy out of her trance. “I do feel better now. I think,” she said still with the blank look on her face.

  “I’ve got something for you,” Pops said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Pops walked into the station to retrieve a plastic grocery bag from behind the counter.

  John opened the truck door and knelt down putting his hand on Amy’s knee.

  “Are you ok?” he asked.

  Amy turned slowly to answer. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I feel like my finger is in an electric socket you know. My whole body feels like it’s vibrating.”

  “It’s just your nerves. I had the same feeling the first time I landed on a ship, and in bad weather to boot. Scary,” John said.

  “Strangely enough I wasn’t scared at all. At least not until it was over.”

  “Right, just like I felt after landing on the pitching deck of a frigate. Once it’s over with you’re scared but at the time your instincts take over and you just do what you have to do.”

  “I guess.”

  “That was a hell of a display you put on out there,” John said.

  Pops walked up behind John. “Yeah, you went all postal on us,” Pops added.

  “I kind of lost it. I don’t know why I did that. Rage I guess. Plus I just started my period.”

  John and Pops laughed.

  “That wasn’t a joke,” Amy said with a straight face.

  “Well young lady after forty eight years of marriage I know exactly what you’re talking about, anyway, it’s good to get it out of your system.”

  Amy laughed.

  “Here, I found this on the road beside your Grandmother,” Pops said taking a black purse from the plastic bag and handing it to Amy. “The stuff was scattered on the ground. I put it all back in except for her I.D. card. I’ll make a cross for her grave and tack it to it.”

  Amy took the bag. “Thanks,” she said holding it to her chest.

  “I’ll go finish what we started,” John said patting Amy on the leg.

  “Oh no, you stay with her. I’ll do it. Not much to do anyway,” Pops said then turned to walk back to the unfinished grave.

  “Thanks,” John said.

  John drove the truck to the edge of the woods and stopped. They sat in silence while Amy looked through the bag. Any money her Grandmother may have had was gone but other personal items were still there. A hairbrush, lipstick and various other items. In the bottom was a small photo album. Amy flipped it open to a picture taken last summer of her Grandmother with all the Grandchildren. There she was standing on the dock at the lake surrounded by the people that loved her most. Smiles all around. Looking at herself in the photo, Amy knew she may never have that feeling again. A feeling of contentment, safety and happiness. She started to cry again. For all she knew she was the only one in the picture still alive. Really alive anyway.

  Amy had been very close to her Grandmother. Thank God she was with her at the end. The family had tried to get her to move closer after her husband, Amy's Grandfather, died three years ago but she said she wasn’t ready to leave her home yet. Maybe in a few more years she would say.

  Amy took the photo from the album and placed it on the dash. Also lying in the bottom of the purse was a small cross on a silver chain. She took the cross from her own neck off and placed it on top of the picture. Then, she put the cross from her Grandmother’s purse on. Tears rolled down her cheek and dripped off the end of her nose as John handed her a tissue that she used to dab at her eyes.

  “It’s ok,” Pops said returning to the truck, “you can come to the grave now.”

  Amy, with the photo and necklace in her hand, got out of the truck and walked toward the grave, John right behind her.

  She stopped and turned to him. “I want to be alone with her.”

  John nodded then walked back to the truck and stood beside Pops while Amy went to the grave and knelt down. She bowed her head and appeared to be praying but they couldn’t understand what she was saying.

  John turned to Pops. “You sure you won’t reconsider? I think your chances are better with us.”

  “You’re probably right,” Pops said, “but I’ve made my mind up, I’m staying. That’s just the way it is. I do appreciate it though. I really do.”

  Water from the wet ground soaked through the knees of Amy's pants.

  “I’m sorry Grandma,” she said as she began to weep again, “I’m sorry.”

  With her hands she dug a small hole at the head of the grave and placed the photo in the bottom. The cross she gently kissed and placed on top of the photo. Then she filled in the hole, kissed the palm of her hand and patted the dirt.

  Then she walked to the truck and fell into John’s arms. Sobbing uncontrollably. John held her tight.

  “She’s better off,” he said.

  “How can you say that,” Amy said looking up at him angrily with tears in her eyes. “She would be better off alive.”

  John was startled by her response. He was just trying to comfort her.

  “I only meant,” he stammered, “that, well, if things get bad we could all meet a horrible end and if that’s the case she’s better off. That’s all. I was just trying to make you feel better.”

  “Maybe we would be better off dead too,” she sobbed.

  “Maybe,” John said not knowing what else to say.

  “You two better be moving along,” Pops said. “If you get going now you can probably make it to Columbia by dark. If, you don’t run into more trouble that is.”

  “Right,” John said, “thanks for reminding us.”

  Pops put his arm around Amy and walked her around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door for her.

  “I took this off of your Grandmother. I thought you would want it,” Pops said handing her a wedding band.

  Amy took the wedding band and placed it on the ring finger of her right hand. It was the one her Grandmother continued to wear even after she became a widow.

  “You take care of yourself.”

  “I will. Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” Pops said then patted her on the head and closed the door.

  “Pops,” John said, “I’m going to offer…”

  “Nope, nope, nope,” Pops said cutting him off, “already told you.”

  “I know, I know,” John said. “I just thought I would offer one more time.”

  “You two need to git while the gittin’s good,” Pops said winking. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me. Me and Ken will stay here as long as we can then… well, I don’t know.”

  John stuck his hand out and the two men shook firmly.

  “Thanks for everything. Maybe someday, when this is over, we’ll come back.”

  “You do that, now git!”

  John gave a nod and climbed back into the truck. Amy was sitting in the passenger’s seat still sniffling.

  Pops turned and walke
d back to the station.

  “Are you ok?” John asked.

  “I’m ok,” she said wiping her eyes with a tissue. “She didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  “I’m really sorry about your Grandmother,” John said. “ I know it’s hard. I buried my Grandmother three years ago. She was the last grandparent I had.”

  Amy looked up at John then back down to her lap.

  “Did they leave her in the middle of the road after she died?” Amy said sarcastically. “Did they run her over with a car.”

  God what a bitch, John thought.

  “Look, I’m sorry for what happened to your Grandmother but it’s not my fault.”

  John sat there staring at Amy for a second. She wouldn’t look at him. Finally he turned the key and started the truck. Neither said a word as he pulled away from the station.

  Looking up in the mirror he saw Pops standing just outside the door watching them leave. John rolled the window down and stuck his hand high in the air and waved. Pops returned the gesture.

  The mist turned back to rain as John rolled up the window leaving it cracked. He was a little upset about Amy’s reaction to his trying to comfort her. More accurately his feelings were hurt. He drove looking straight ahead. Afraid to look at her.

  “I’m sorry,” Amy said weakly, barely audible against the sound of the rain beating down on the roof.

  John heard her but made no indication that he did. He wanted to hear her say it again.

  “John,” she said touching his arm lightly, “I said I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted,” John said still not looking at her.

  “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean it personally, it’s just that you...you just happen to be the one there at the moment you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “It’s a lot to take. This has been the worst day of my life.”

  Now John felt guilty for not being more understanding. He felt childish for pouting the way he did.

  “I’m sorry too Amy,” he said putting his other hand on hers. “I know you’ve been through a lot. Both of us have. We’ll be ok.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yeah I do.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  John drove on. The rain only adding to the feeling of despair and hopelessness they both felt. Even though he wasn’t confident they would actually survive in the long run, he knew he needed to be more positive. He realized that Amy’s morale was directly affected by his attitude. He would lay his life on the line for her if it came to that.