No Room In Hell (Book 2): 400 Miles To Graceland

by William Schlichter

  “You were correct about this place. You knew this place was a trap.”

  “I failed. I knew. But even my experience dealing with the new world no one has constructed such an elaborate trap to capture people. I wasn’t ready for the electric shock.”

  “I say we burn it down.” Chad flings open the door.

  “Fire attracts too much attention and impossible to control,” Ethan says.

  “It will be a trap for others.”

  “Not with those four dead and no supplies inside. It’s a safe place to sleep and nothing more.”

  Chad storms off the porch even if his thumping gait radiates pain.

  “I’ve never seen him like this.” Becky flings her pack over her shoulder.

  “We’d better keep a close eye on him.”

  “SO, YOU WERE a cop?” Tony asks. He doesn’t need much confirmation. He smells cops the way biters smell blood.

  “Detective.”

  “Like Sherlock Holmes?” Kelsey jokes.

  “No. I didn’t wear a uniform or a damn tie. I didn’t patrol, either. I compiled information and evidence for criminal cases. I had to pass a test and have some college to be a police detective.”

  “It means he’s observant and smarter than those county guys who harassed me for open containers,” Kelsey says.

  “Must be nice to be bothered for something you did. I got pulled over—”

  “Because you were black,” Danziger completes Tony’s rant. “It had nothing to do with being in an unregistered car, dressed in gang colors, or running from a building where a robbery just occurred.”

  “The world stopped being black and white when the undead decided to strut around. The dead don’t care,” Kelsey says. “We’ve got to trust each other.”

  “Some things are hard to get over,” Tony admits.

  “Then you better. I know this trip proves something to Ethan about you. You don’t have to like each other, but we need to be a team,” Kelsey says.

  Tony and Danziger nod.

  “So why are we heading so close to St. Louis?” Tony asks. “Got to be thousands of millions of those fuckers.”

  “There was a caravan of people enroute to Fort Wood. A herd forced them to abandon a lot of supplies, and in my search for Levin, I left a friend—Tom.” Danziger asks, “Didn’t they brief you on this?”

  “I volunteered. Didn’t care. I guess I should have. A couple of us owe Ethan a debt. One we had to work off to earn getting inside Acheron’s fences. He said going with Danziger would accomplish it for me,” Tony says.

  “What were you in for?” Danziger’s question shocks Kelsey more than Tony.

  “Are you asking because he’s black?” Kelsey asks.

  “I’m just asking—cop intuition.”

  “Not supposed to speak on it, but, you want to trust. Ethan discovered us locked in a prison bus. A herd overturned it. Five us survived only because we were locked in cage. They couldn’t reach us and we couldn’t escape. Nor could we do anything while everyone one else was eaten around us. Ethan released us if we promised to protect the east area of Acheron. When he felt we earned our place, we could move inside.”

  A lightbulb clicks on for Kelsey. “Simon takes you food every day.”

  “That redneck fucker hates us.”

  “He’s crotchety,” Kelsey agrees. “I think it’s just his age.”

  “We’ll see how he treats a brother on the inside after I get him a locomotive.”

  “Not what we’re doing,” says Danziger.

  “We’re not after a train?” Tony asks.

  “We’re going to check the station in Washington and inspect the caravan,” Danziger says.

  “If we use a train, won’t more biters be attracted by the noise?” Kelsey asks.

  “Train cars will offer advantages and safety.”

  “A corpse won’t derail a train like hitting a dozen in a car will,” says Danziger.

  “There’s no direct route to Springfield from Acheron,” says Kelsey.

  “From the map, the train heads toward KC then south. I don’t know anything about switching tracks, but if we find some train people we bring them back. Eventually, we could use the lines to move across the country. At least west of the Mississippi.”

  “Why only west? I’d want to go Washington DC; you know all those Senators are safe in some bunker,” Tony says.

  “The military was blowing bridges across the Mississippi River to slow the flow of undead,” Danziger says. “I encountered a demolition team preforming such actions.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Kelsey asks. “I think I jumped at this mission too quickly as well. I didn’t realize there was so much missing information.”

  “We are scouts. It’s our job to fill in the missing info. Wanikiya said you two were skilled. Kelsey you’re a crack shot. I’m a cop who’s been dealing with the undead. What did you do, Tony?”

  “I’m an undead wrangler.”

  “Sounds like we’ve experts in the undead. Now we create the team.”

  “Nobody said how we determine when we encounter people if we offer to bring them back home,” Kelsey points out.

  “There’s no training for selecting. We just play by our gut.”

  Moan-howl burbles on the breeze. Danziger draws his pistol.

  Kelsey raises her hand for him to stop, she shoulders her rifle while drawing her machete. “Don’t draw noise attention for one.” The blade cleaves the top of the skull exposing the brain. The biter collapse into a disheveled heap.

  “They swarm to each other but for some reasons you do find loners.”

  “Has anyone studied them?” Danziger asks.

  “You mean like scientifically? No fuck’n way. It’s one thing to put makeup on chimps or carve up rats, but a lab mishap—”

  “They don’t move fast, but I had one charge me once. It sprinted,” says Danziger.

  BECKY PUMPS A drop of hand lotion on her forefinger. She works it in circles over the garter tattoo on her right thigh. “Do you think we could recue a tattoo artist next?”

  “The world ended and you want another tattoo,” Chad unhooks his gun belt.

  “I want to match,” she slaps the inkless left leg.

  “It gives you distinction,” Ethan adjusts his supplies in his pack. “And, Chad, you’re a moron. Don’t argue with any girl that wants to show off her legs to you.”

  “He’s still learning about women.” Becky smiles at him.

  “How the fuck are you two able to joke? Noon today, I was being made a prison bitch!” Chad flings the home’s previous residents’ personal items off the chest of drawers. “I took everything I had to just walk the rest of the day. That guy parked a bus in my ass.” He shakes, not wanting to cry.

  “But you did. You killed the bastard who touched you.” Ethan flips open the cylinder on his magnum and dumps seven of the eight rounds. “If you’re unable to deal with what happened…you have an option.”

  “What the fuck? No, Ethan. Chad, you aren’t going to blow your brains out.” Becky steps between them.

  “There’s no Dr. Phil on this trip.” Ethan pulls his t-shirt over his head. Much of his chest still marred with gray bruises.

  “I get it. You do have some understanding. I don’t know how to just get over it,” says Chad.

  Ethan removes a pint of Bacardi from his pack. “I keep this for trade or medical. Kills a lot of germs in non-bite wounds. I’m not saying to start drinking, but a few shots tonight might help.”

  Becky takes the bottle and breaks the seal. She swills three gulps. “Woo-hoo! Dealing with you two will drive any girl to drink.” She wipes her lips dry with the back of her hand before offering the bottle to Chad.

  He swallows a finger’s worth.

  “Better.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I feel more manly. As manly as you can getting your cherry popped by a dude.”

  Ethan seals the bottle, returning to his pack. “Sleepy time.”

  �
�Do you always stay on the second floor?” asks Becky.

  “I have my madness.” Ethan smiles. He would place bets on how to fix Chad, but he decides to keep his suggestion to himself. He reloads the magnum.

  “How many times a day are you going to check your gun?”

  “As many as it takes to keep me breathing. Remember to treat your gun like you do a woman—respect her, love her, never forget how dangerous she is.”

  “What makes you such an expert?” Chad asks.

  “I know enough to know that as soon as I figure out a woman they hold a meeting and change all the rules.”

  “You’re funny.” Becky slips the hand lotion into a side pouch on her backpack.

  “Keep it up girl and I’ll give you the hose again.”

  “Is that some kind of women being a dog joke?” Becky snaps.

  “No,” Chad explains, “he referenced Hannibal Lector.”

  Ethan rolls his eyes. “Close enough.” He flips open the cylinder on his magnum—eight rounds.

  Chad flips the chest of drawers on its side to keep the door secure. “When do we find a boat?”

  “Not today.” Ethan lies on the bed, his magnum next to his right hand. He reaches to the nightstand, tapping the top of a Coleman lantern and it dims out, covering the room in blackness.

  Ethan’s finger touches his magnum handle. He keeps his eyes shut, recognizing the sounds. The low-grunts are not from the undead. Once sure what he hears is Becky releasing positive mumbles of pleasures, he drifts back to his own sexless dreams.

  “I WANT TO attempt a small project,” Wanikiya explains. “I read on the internet about Native American farming practices.”

  “You’re a Sioux,” Rad hammers in a post.

  “Doesn’t mean I know about farming practices. My people were hunters.” Wanikiya scowls as he ties a string around the post. “Before the white man destroyed our way of life.”

  “Now the undead destroy everyone’s.” Rad hammers in another post about fifty feet from the first post.

  “Quite the juxtaposition.”

  “Why do you educated types use such big words? Ethan does it a lot,” Rad says.

  “Knowledge will be what helps us survive. Now, from what I read, corn was planted.” Wanikiya ties his string to the second post.

  “Got plenty of corn seed.” Rad marks off one-hundred paces before driving in a third post.

  “Next plant beans. They’ll use the corn as natural climbing poles. Finally, squash to choke out weeds.”

  “I’ll say it seems logical. I’ll plant a few acres as you requested. If it works next year, we’ll do whole fields. It will be quite productive. What will we do with so much squash?”

  “I know a squash casserole recipe,” Wanikiya assures. “Pies.”

  “We will get to a point when we waste nothing. Wish my grandfather was alive. He grew up during the Great Depression. They reused everything. He’d even find some use for all the cell phones lying around.”

  “We’ll figure new uses for everything in time. We’ll stick with using up what we have first. We need to learn to tan the cow hides. Some library somewhere must have a book on it.”

  “You think we’ll return to wearing buckskin?” Rad asks.

  “In the summer. It breathes and it stays cool, not like all the wool sweaters we’re going to have to knit for winter,” Wanikiya says.

  “We’ve got a few people who knit. Once the fields no longer have to be weeded. Have you given much thought to the gas situation?”

  “Lack of fuel is one reason Ethan chooses to hike. Retrieving what he recovers rates a higher use for fuel expenditures while it lasts,” Wanikiya says.

  “Even if we plant and harvest by hand. We still need tractors. No one is ready to yoke some oxen. And we don’t have enough people to operate as field hands.”

  “We need more people to maintain our survival, but we have electric lights and plow our fields with mules. We will learn to do again what people have done for centuries.”

  “It’s been too long now since we huddled in this farm house and built our first fence. Now we’ll have to take who we find.”

  “Ethan brought people who helped to grow our community. Are you saying to stop screening who he encounters?” Wanikiya asks.

  “As much as possible.”

  “The work for your food rule is effective. Now that you can’t just go buy off the dollar menu, when some is caught slacking and goes to bed without supper they don’t slack anymore,” Wanikiya says.

  “As it should be. We provide no free rides.”

  “We’re going to have to worry about children. No way someone’s not going to be pregnant—and soon.”

  “We do have some children now.”

  “A few.”

  “Plenty of educated people?”

  “There’s a few. Several hoe weeds because world history studies don’t translate well to useful skills during an apocalypse.”

  “So much to do, and I must cook dinner,” Wanikiya says.

  “I enjoy your food. I’ve never had Mom’s home cooking before you, but there are plenty who’ll work the kitchen while you preform administrative duties. If our leader spends all his time outside the fence, then it’s only right you run this place.”

  “Ethan’s plans are sound,” Wanikiya says.

  “But he doesn’t stay to enforce them,” Rad reminds him.

  “I think he knows one day his knee will give out and he doesn’t want to be a burden on us. He wants to ensure his retirement.”

  “He could do so by keeping this place running successfully.”

  “My ideas might be even more radical than Ethan insisting on grade level reading and apprenticeship programs,” Wanikiya says.

  “Training people seems reasonable. What could be more radical?”

  “Music. Reading expands the mind, and we need the next generation to be smart. Hell, if I find a music teacher, every one of those kids would learn to play an instrument. It improves the brain,” Wanikiya says.

  “Have Ethan add sheet music to the shopping list.” Rad laughs. He tosses his hammer in the back of the truck. “I’ll get your garden experiment going.”

  “Keep us focused on the practical Rad. Food growth and gate security is of upmost importance.”

  “Rebuilding a community is more than a strong wall. We must care how we rebuild as well. If we are to rebuild at all.”

  “FUCK ME.” DAKOTA hoists his foot onto the interstate highway guard rail overlooking Six Flag’s parking lot.

  “At least you were correct about the all the cars to choose from.”

  A layer of mud reaches the top of most of the car tires, trapping them.

  “Without people here to stop it, the river flooded. It won’t take Mother Nature long to reclaim what humans have done to her,” Tom says.

  “Then maybe we should just go extinct.” Danielle pokes at her tender nose scar, watering her eyes.

  “Your scar don’t make you any less pretty than the hog ring you had in there before,” Dakota says.

  “Fuck you, small dick,” Danielle quips.

  Dakota grabs his crotch. “You know you want it.”

  “I’ve seen you pee, dude. I’m not impressed.” Danielle rolls her eyes.

  “Just wait. You’ll want it.”

  “Not if we can find batteries,” Danielle snaps.

  Darcy smirks as does Tom.

  “Dude, let it go,” Dave says. “What ‘s our next move, Tom?”

  “Even if any of the cars lacked enough water damage to allow the engine to turn over we’ve never dig one out. We move on to Fort Wood. Look for homes with cars left in garages and for now none in low lying areas.”

  “You seem unsure, Tom,” Darcy questions his saddened tone.

  “I don’t know anymore, kid. People should be helping each other. Times of crisis have always brought out the best in people.”

  “Tom, those people died helping,” Dave says.

  Dakota je
rks open a car door, driving a knife into the skull of an infected trapped by the seat belt. He tosses the body onto the road, reaching into twist the keys. The engine sputters for one crank then nothing. Not one light or alarm beep. His kick crumples the fender. “I’m not hoofing some hundred miles.”

  “I’ve got to concur with short dick,” Danielle says.

  “Keep it up, you twiggy bitch. I’ll show you how small it is when I fuck that gap you call a nose.”

  “I will cut it off.” Danielle grips her dagger.

  Tom steps closer to between the two of them. “It’s going to be difficult if we can’t get along.”

  “Dusty held us together,” Danielle says.

  At the sound of his name, Darcy collapses against a car and breaks into tears. “He promised he wouldn’t die. Everyone in my life has died.”

  “Get over it. All our families are dead,” says Dakota.

  “You’re a giant douche.” Darcy throws a used fast food wrapper at him.

  “Just get over it.”

  Even if Tom wants to punch him in the mouth right now his actions won’t help. “Dakota, please.”

  “I’m not the bad guy here,” he protests.

  “Just scout west for a while.”

  “Fuck you all.”

  Darcy puts her arm around Danielle. “We’re your family. I need you. Without you I’ve got to tell these men about my periods.”

  “I just can’t.” Danielle smiles as snot drips from her nose. “I don’t want everyone left I know to die.”

  “I don’t plan to die.” Tom’s bravado doesn’t reassure her.

  “You’re hurt. You’ve one arm. You need surgery.”

  Darcy speaks, almost mousey, “We’re going to find a safe place.”

  “Don’t you get it. No place is safe!”

  “Being with us. Your new family will keep you safe,” Tom says.

  “Why?”

  “We have to live, Danielle. I don’t want to turn into those things,” Darcy says.

  “What did you want in life, Darcy?”

  “I don’t know. My parents wanted college. I was afraid to leave high school. I didn’t fill out a scholarship on purpose. The guidance counselor was sure I would get it. If I didn’t do it, it meant I had no reason to go away. I don’t want to go away.” She hangs her head. “I should have done it. My mom…she would’ve been so proud. Had I done it. She’d still be dead, but I’d know she died proud of me.”