She lay at peace as the tires thumped and the engine churned out its white noise. When the trip northeast had first begun she chirped nonstop like a tireless bird, but then the stress of the evening caught up with her. Down dropped her lids to cover over her blue orbs and then her breath stopped forming words, lightly whistling on the outflow instead.
She was beautiful. Even covered in zombie makeup she stirred Ram’s heart with her button nose, soft cheeks, and pointy little chin. He wanted to kiss each of her features as if she was his own daughter.
With difficulty he refrained.
“Not yet,” he said glancing away from her long enough to correct his course. “Maybe if I live through the night, I’ll tell you that I love you, little Jillybean.”
But not before. There was just too much of a chance that he wouldn’t make it and she was already far too attached. What would it do to her to hear I love you from him right before he died? Would she blame herself? Would she push away Neil or any other father figure? What if it just plain messed her up for life? After all, everyone who had ever told her they loved her was very likely dead.
He wasn’t going to take the chance at giving her a complex just so he could die without feeling all alone.
Was that what his feelings for her were all about? Was she just a cure for his loneliness?
Ram couldn’t get a handle on his feelings and while he wrestled with them the city came into sight far to the east. At night there wasn’t much he could see of it. It was simply a horizon of angular shadows against a starry background. As he drew closer, the empty buildings and the sorrowful wail of the zombies added to the aura of death that he felt surrounding him. It seemed very close now, like an invisible glow coming from his exposed skin and hovering about like a shroud.
The single lane between the endless shambling mounds of grey flesh didn’t help the feeling either. It was as if he was being herded to his doom and so, very uncharacteristically, he followed the lane without once considering deviating from it. If he did, where would he go? New York was huge and he had no idea where Neil and Sarah or even Cassie was.
It was true he could get out and walk the streets as a zombie, but for how long? In Philadelphia he had walked a half-mile and passed two-hundred zombies, which had felt like a lot. Now he knew that it was nothing.
In New York City the numbers of undead were astronomical. Their smell was like an invisible fog that coated everything, including the inside of his mouth. It made him want to gag.
Why would any human stay here? Ram wondered. If there was an answer it lay ahead…and not much further ahead. There in his lights were heavy iron gates that undoubtedly led to his destination. Further on he could see a brilliantly lit ship sitting up next to a pier. Across from it, tied to the dock, in tandem, were two Staten Island ferry boats that crawled with live people.
This was it.
Ram brought his Ford to a stop right before the gates, however they did not retract as they had for Neil earlier. When he saw the guard house flicker with shadows he tapped lightly on his horn. The sound stirred up the zombies nearby. In mass, they pushed forward, and so great were their numbers that the metal poles leaned and the fencing bowed dangerously.
“Read the fucking sign, asshole!” someone called out above the moans.
Now Ram saw the sign:
Gates will not open after sunset. No exceptions!
“Son of a bitch,” he swore under his breath. He felt the pressing need to get his fate over with one way or the other and the idea of a delay only added to his anxiety.
Sitting there, with his intuition trending darkly, he forced himself to relax and decided to use the time to come up with a better plan. His only plan at the moment was to go in friendly, smile pretty, and then blast Cassie the moment he saw her, and let the chips fall where they may. It wasn’t a good plan, but having been born with an action oriented personality, Ram had never been much for plans.
After a few seconds of gazing down at the brilliantly lit cruise boat, he came up with a new plan. He’d sneak aboard, find Cassie, blow her to hell, and let the chips fall where they would.
“Good enough,” he said as he turned the truck around.
“What are you doing, Mister Ram?” Jillybean asked. She rubbed her eyes and then yawned in imitation of a tiny grizzly.
“I think I found where Neil and Sarah are. Back there at those boats that are all lit up.”
She squinted at the retreating lights. “Then why are we going this way?”
“They won’t let us in until morning,” Ram told her. “I have a bad feeling that Neil is in trouble, sooo…” He paused after drawing out the syllable and gave her a guilty smile. “So I’m going to find a different way onto the boat while you stand guard with the truck.”
“You mean you don’t want me to come with you,” Jillybean said with her chin sunk to her chest.
“It’s not because I’m mad at you or anything,” Ram said quickly. “It’s just you’re so small and this is really dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“But everything is dangerous now,” Jillybean said. “And I’m always going to be smaller than you, and I don’t want to get hurt either. But I also don’t want you to get hurt, and neither does Ipes though he doesn’t say it.”
“This is extra dangerous,” Ram tried to explain. “It’s the kind of dangerous that I may not be able to come back from. Do you understand?”
“You mean you might die,” Jillybean said, her face starting to twist beneath the make-up. “Then don’t do it! Stay here with me.”
“What about Eve? And Sadie and Miss Sarah and Mister Neil? They could be in trouble right now. And even if they’re not, somebody has to stop Cassie.” Somebody has to be good. That was the real reason behind his foolish heroics. Ever since the apocalypse, the concepts of good and honor and duty seemed to have been thrown out the window.
“But what do I do if you die?” Jillybean asked. Her lower lip stuck out and quivered while her eyes grew bigger and wetter with every passing second.
“Come here,” Ram said, gathering her into his arms. “Don’t worry about that. You are such a smart and brave little girl that I think you’ll be fine. Just make sure you keep Ipes near. I can tell that he helps you be smart. And he’s a good friend, right?”
“Yes, b-but he’s not the same as having you,” she said with her thin chest beginning to hitch. “I’ll b-be all alone again.”
“Yeah,” Ram breathed. He had no idea what to do. On one hand it would be insane to take a six-year-old with him into what could be a gun-battle. On the other hand to leave her all alone in a city plagued with so many zombies was horrible and cruel.
There was only one person he could turn to for advice. “What does Ipes say you should do?”
Ipes always had an opinion. Jillybean paused, as if actually listening, sniveling up buggers and wiping at her tears uselessly, since more followed in a steady trickle. When the zebra was done she cried even harder.
“He thinks you should stay in the truck, doesn’t he?” Ram asked, holding her.
She nodded without looking up. “He says people are mean, while zombies are just monsters. He says I should take my chances with the monsters. They’re easier to understand and easier to handle.”
“Ok,” Ram whispered and patted her leg, glad that he had been let off the hook. It was a decision that he couldn’t have made on his own. “Ipes is very smart and I know he makes you very smart too. We should listen to him.” His use of the word “we” had him thinking a ridiculous thought. “What does Ipes think I should do?” Ram asked. He even glanced down at the stuffed animal as if expecting the zebra to speak.
Jillybean nodded gently, her face growing resigned. “He says if you don’t go to help Neil, no one will. And he says I shouldn’t try to stop you. He says I have to let you go and hope that you make it back.”
Ram marveled at the answer. What part of Jillybean’s six-year-old brain was mature enough to formulate such a
response? Was she channeling her father through her subconscious? Was she naturally precocious? Or had her intelligence blossomed due to the extreme conditions she found herself living in?
The answer didn’t matter. He hugged her fiercely for a moment and then pulled back to look at her. Despite that her eyes still dripped tears, she smiled bravely and he hugged her a second time so that she wouldn’t see that his own eyes had grown misty.
He cleared his throat and said, “Ok,” before setting his face forward and putting the truck in motion once again. They back-tracked, looking for a stretch of fencing on the east side of the lane that he could bash down. Since all the fences were reinforced with stalled-out cars, Ram had to drive further than a mile to find a spot.
“Buckle up, Sweetheart,” he warned told Jillybean. He then floored the truck and sent it spearing through the fence in a great crash and shriek. The fence wasn’t his only obstacle. The Ford jounced over the undead like a tractor carving up a New England field.
Eventually he came to a place near the river where the dead were fewer in numbers. Ram stopped the truck and the two of them hid under a sleeping bag as the zombies came up to inspect the vehicle. When they didn’t see humans they moved on.
“It’s time,” Ram said, after peeking above the edge of the door to make sure the coast was clear. “I should get going. Now remember, if I don’t make it back…listen to Ipes. He’ll know what to do.”
Jillybean agreed she would. “Are you ascared?” Jillybean asked. She clearly was scared for Ram.
Ram had to smile at the realization. “You’re scared for me, but I’m sacred for you. We’re funny aren’t we?”
She smiled sadly. “Butterfly-kiss for luck,” she said, and came right up to his face so he could feel the subtle wind of her breath. A second later her giant lashes whisked up and down on his cheek. It was the greatest thing he had ever felt in his life.
“Your turn,” she said, pulling back and then presenting her cheek to him.
He had never done this before, though he guessed he did it right when she began to giggle.
“Ok, time to go,” he said again. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to tell Jillybean that he loved her and that he would take care of her and that they could go away and be a family. He would be the dad and she would be his little girl. Instead he squeezed her hand and said, “Bye.”
“Bye,” she said right back in a little voice.
He left then, and after looking back once and seeing her tiny upturned face staring out the truck’s window he couldn’t force himself to look back a second time. Whatever noble reason he had for leaving couldn’t compare to the idea that he was abandoning a little girl on a dark night in a city of the undead.
Chapter 36
Neil
New York City
What started out as a simple affair—a demonstration of the viability of a vaccine—became a scene straight out of Mad Max.
Since no one trusted anyone else, every faction kept an observer near the two prisoners which made for a cramped and uncomfortable setting. Arguments were nonstop and fights frequent. Because of the friction Neil and Sadie were brought to one of the Staten Island ferry boats that were moored across the pier from the cruise ship.
In the center of it, where cars were normally set, was a cavernous open space, lit only by a few low-watt bulbs high-up on the ceiling. There the two prisoners were chained by the neck to the floor just out of reach of each other. They had only enough links in their chains to stand and even then the metal bit into their skin.
To make the proceedings seem more official and less like a circus, Yuri had them inspected by a physician. Their scratches and scrapes were documented, their temperatures were taken, and blood was drawn, but for what test it was never revealed.
Sadie seethed in her chains at her coming death. At first she was like a wild animal, but Neil advised her to save her strength just in case there was an opening to escape. Escape was a pipe dream. It would be impossible. There were eleven separate factions from all over the country and each was willing to pony up a wealth of goods for a vaccine, but only for a vaccine that worked. With a real demonstration as the only true test they would do their best to thwart any escape.
Within an hour, the news of the demonstration had circulated around the boat twice and such was the curiosity that a separate viewing area had to be created to keep the people back. It was low-rent fancy. Tattered, red crushed velvet ropes were appropriated from a nearby theater and strung down the length of the boat, allowing people to walk by and stare at the two prisoners. Most just looked while others heckled:
“Let’s see your face!”
“What did you two do? Kill someone?”
“Is it true you guys are father and daughter?”
“I heard he’s going to let her die.”
“I heard he was nothing but a coward.”
“Don’t listen to them, Neil,” Sadie said, coming to his defense as always. “I know how brave you are.”
He laughed softly. “If I’m so brave then why do I feel like I’m about to piss myself?”
“Because that’s who you are,” she replied. “You’re the most frightened person I know, but there isn’t a fear you haven’t overcome. I know you’ll be tough for this, too.”
“Probably not,” he said. “I won’t have anything to be tough for.” Conspicuously absent from the crowd was Sarah and Eve, and of course Jillybean whose disappearance was a mystery to all of them. He had failed as a father and a husband. This certain knowledge made it hard to look anywhere near Sadie. Her death was on his shoulders.
Sadie dropped her head. “It's going to be ok. I hope. I love you, Neil.”
“Love you too.”
The spectators razzed them for this display and there were more taunts and insults. For some reason the people thought it was proper to spit at the pair. The guards did nothing until someone threw a battery at Neil. The man received only a warning.
At just after ten, when the moon hung quartered in the sky, Yuri and the faction leaders, along with as many people as possible, crammed onto the ferry boat. There seemed to be thousands of them. They whispered like snakes and pointed and joked and laughed like hyenas.
Yuri did not make a speech. He raised his hand and in it was a syringe. “The vaccine!” he shouted. The people cheered. The Russian advanced on Neil, who sat waiting docilely. Sadie couldn’t stop herself. She raged against the chain sending out flailing kicks and when that proved fruitless she spat at Yuri and cursed him for a coward.
The crowd roared its approval and began to chant for her to get the vaccine in Neil’s stead. Unable to shout above the noise Yuri shook his head and then pointed at Neil.
“Boo!”
“Give it to the girl!”
Yuri did not. Her death had already been bought and paid for. He held up his long pointer finger and wagged it at the crowd as if they were naughty children for even suggesting such a thing. He then went to Neil and the crowd was so loud that not even the closest to them heard Yuri say: “Good luck.”
When the shot was given the crowd quieted and watched Neil, looking for signs of his immunity. Eventually some began to depart, but, like an Emcee under the big top, Yuri cried out: “Now for the monster!”
The crowd buzzed with excitement and then a woman shrieked and people pointed.
A zombie, wrapped in chains, was brought down the center of the boat, causing people to crush in on themselves to keep away. There was little danger. Though it was a large and healthy male, and although it moaned and snarled and gnashed its grey teeth, theatrically, it had four handlers who kept it in check.
It was chained just across from Neil and Sadie so that the three of them formed a triangle. Slowly, link by link the zombie was given room to move. It leaned at the pair going back and forth testing the chains.
This entertained the crowd for a few minutes; they cheered and jeered, but just when they began to grow quiet again with the show seemingly over, Yur
i clapped loudly twice. It was a signal, clearly, and the crowd began to look back and forth expectantly.
It was not long before a second zombie was brought forth. This one was more subdued.
“What’s it for?”
“Why are there two?”
“One for each of them?”
Sadie glared at Yuri for his sick ways and tried her best to inch closer so that she could give him a swift kick in the balls if the opportunity presented. It did not.
The zombie was brought forward and unlike the first who was wrapped across the torso, this one only had a chain around its neck, while its hands were cuffed behind its back. And again unlike the first this one was soaking wet: it dripped water and red blood onto the steel of the deck.
“That’s a man!” someone shouted.
It was a man. Neil felt his legs go wobbly when he recognized Victor Ramirez beneath grey makeup and new wounds. He was shackled by the neck to deck and his cuffs removed.
Yuri held up his hands for silence. “We have uninvited guest,” he said in his accented English. “Is there a faction who will claim him or perhaps I let him go?” Neil saw the Russian’s eyes flick to Cassie who stood with the Blacks. The question had been for her sake—Ram wasn’t going to be let go, not when Yuri could make money off the deal.
When Cassie saw who the bedraggled person was her eyes flew open. “I’ll give you three barrels of fuel-oil for him.”
John, the leader of the Whites raised his hand. “I’ll give you four!”
Almost as one, the crowd blinked. They had never seen a person auctioned off like this—no American had in almost a hundred and fifty years.
The crowd grew so quiet that Cassie didn’t need to raise her voice to say: “Five.”
“Six,” John shot back.
“He don’t have no six barrels,” Cassie screamed, in fury. “Yuri, he’s lying. He don't have no six barrels of fuel-oil. I don't think he gots any.”
Yuri shrugged. “He would not lie to me. He needs my vaccine too much to even think about lying to me. So, do I hear seven barrels?”
The Undead World (Book 2): The Apocalypse Survivors Page 33
