He was face-to-face with a peeling-faced rotter that looked like it had been struck by a car. One shoulder was bent backward, and that arm dangled uselessly. His right eye hung by strings of whatever the hell once kept it in its socket, and he dragged one foot.
His hair, like most of the others, remained on his head in clumps and tufts, each one looking like it could be plucked out with a couple of fingers.
It ran into him and Garland staggered back. Its eyes were not focused on him; they stared into the dark distance of the cave, only lit by a few of the still-burning torches their team had lit.
It moved past him.
Garland released his breath.
The splashes behind him were increasing in speed, and now the dead ones were emerging from the pool below the chute faster, and in greater and greater numbers.
Deciding it didn’t matter, and not sure whether or not his people could still hear him from wherever they were, he called out, “Y’all might be okay based on what I just tried, but keep on movin’! There’s a shitload of the dead comin’ in!”
“Garland!” came CB’s voice from a distance. “Come on! Don’t do anything stupid!”
“As Forrest Gump once said, ‘stupid is as stupid does’!” he called back. “I’m good, CB. Y’all go on and I’ll hook up with you later, come hell or high water!”
CB said something in response, but Garland didn’t understand it. A second later his radio clicked, but Garland quickly reached down to switch it off.
Stealth would be the order of the day if he were able to make it past the dead.
He turned and moved around the rock corner, stepping down into the pool. He kept to the wall, avoiding the monsters plummeting from above, not capable of using the hand and footholds that allowed them all to ease their way down the chute.
The water below protected them from broken bones. If there had been only craggy rocks below, the dead would have snapped bones and ended up in a heap of writhing bodies that would continue to pile upon one another until the chute itself was clogged solid and nobody would be able to get in or out.
From the sound that filled the cavern, there had to be thousands of the dead coming through; if they were to stack up above the access tunnel, the sheer weight and the way their goo-filled bodies would settle into one another would create an impenetrable barrier.
The reek was horrid. Garland watched another fifteen come through and had to make his move. He slid over to the wall and slung his rifle onto his back, freeing his hands. Lester was waiting up there, and he would try to put him to use somehow.
Keeping his eyes cast above as he put his right fingers into the recess and his left toe in the foothold, Garland climbed.
Bodies brushed his shoulder as they plummeted behind him, and Garland pressed his body flatter against the rock, searching for the next handhold.
It was a good distance to the top, and a climb best suited for a more agile man, but the work he did in Lebanon, lifting steel panels, plates and winches – had toned his muscles.
Next step. Another two feet. Steady as she goes.
He remembered hearing CB say that to Liam. He smiled. He liked that kid.
Each minute seemed to pass like an hour, but soon he saw a faint light above him, darkening each time a rotter entered the hole and dropped behind him.
Because the wall angled inward just below the craggy hole leading into the jagged chute, Garland had around thirteen inches in which to shimmy out of the hole and onto a rocky lip a couple of feet wide. If all went well, the monsters falling through the hole would fly on by.
Being careful, but almost losing his rifle to an errant zombie who stumbled in from the backside of the hole and slammed him hard into the rocks, he finally crawled out.
He could not see the cave entrance at all. It was filled with the dead, what had to be over a thousand, and all moving toward the hole out of which he had just emerged.
He moved against the wall, finding a narrow pathway navigable by him, but not the unbalanced dead. The moment he could, he pulled the radio from his belt.
“CB? Anyone copy?”
“I gotcha, Garland. You copy? This is Lilly.”
“Lilly!” he said. “Good. Hey, just so y’all know, that shit worked! They don’t come after me, anyway!”
“That’s fantastic!” she said. “Garland, that’s very big news!”
“Yeah, but still, you won’t be able to get out this way. Gotta be a thousand or more of those damned monsters coming down that hole.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the upper cavern, where we came in.”
“Did you see Qaletaqa?”
“I don’t know what he looks like, so not that I know.”
“He’ll probably be the only one who’s not a zombie, Garland. Be careful. He will kill you if he sees you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. Still got my M1, still got my secret weapon.”
“The … guard dog they talked about? Hope it’s a Rotty.”
“It ain’t a Rotty or a Pit, but it’ll do.”
“Be safe. We’ll radio when we’re back under moonlight.”
“Has Georgina heard from Roxy and Terry, Lilly?”
“Why do you ask?” asked Lilly, her voice sounding labored.
“Just came to mind,” said Garland. “Hey, you pay attention to what you’re doin’. I’ll be careful, like you said.”
“Okay,” said Lilly. “Out.”
Ω
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lebanon, Kansas
Roxy held the ladder, one eye behind her, as the others crawled down. Nina wasn’t comfortable carrying Gabriel down the ladder, so Terry offered to let the boy ride piggyback as he descended rung-by-rung.
He struggled down as the young boy clung to his neck, eyes squeezed closed, and when he finally touched his foot to the floor, he said, “Hold on. Just hang on for a few more steps.”
He then continued toward the double doors, stopped and waited. “Rox, go through? Check if it’s clear?”
“Good idea.” Roxy eased the door open, scanned the visible area, and saw nothing. “Okay, go, but no talking out there,” she said.
Terry walked outside and bent forward, allowing Gabriel to slide down and stand beside him.
Roxy, Liam and Nina joined them and they huddled together, all with one eye looking out for danger.
“Okay,” whispered Roxy. “We need a place to go. We have no idea where that horde went, or if they’re still idle somewhere nearby, waiting for something to draw them. Please, please keep your voices down, and let’s just try to find someplace nearby.”
“Away from this,” said Terry, gesturing toward the dead bodies scattered on the sidewalks and streets all around them. There were nowhere near as many as might have been expected, but the remaining bodies all displayed serious head wounds.
They probably wouldn’t be wandering off or becoming a threat anytime soon.
“Why don’t they eat them all?” asked Liam. “They eat some of them, but then they leave a lot.”
“You shouldn’t be looking that closely,” said Roxy. “Stuff like that could mess you up.”
“You remember what I told you happened with my parents, right? Not sure how much more messed up I could get.”
“Touché, Liam,” said Terry.
“Don’t they say that in sword fighting?” asked Liam.
“Fencing,” said Nina. “But it also means that someone’s got a point.”
“And the point’s taken,” said Roxy. “Please, let’s keep chit-chat to a minimum. Anyway, I say we move south. They came from that direction, so hopefully they continued moving north after tearing through this place.”
Nobody objected. Roxy checked her weapons and Terry and Liam did the same as they stayed close to the building until reaching the corner. Once there, they all scanned the street, looking for movement.
“I thought I saw something behind that building down Main Street,” said Liam. “I
t went that way at that first street.” He pointed west.
“Then we’ll go the other way,” said Roxy. “Pine or Maple? Anyone have a preference?”
“Let’s go down that dirt road,” said Liam. “There’s a bunch of houses down there, especially once you pass Grove Street.”
“How much did you explore the town?” asked Terry.
“A lot, but I always had my .22. And I always went with Brandon. He’s fifteen.”
“And a damned good shot,” said Roxy.
Liam said, “We only saw those things twice, and it was just one both times. We killed ‘em.”
“Lucky you two weren’t exploring when a horde came through,” said Roxy. “But we’ll take your advice.”
Without another word, all three had their weapons unslung and ready as they moved across School Avenue to the dirt road leading south. The many footprints were visible; drag marks, bare feet, all the signs of the horde.
“Look at all the hair,” whispered Nina.
“Disgusting,” whispered Terry.
It blew by their feet in the light breeze. Roxy vaguely registered it was a southerly wind, and her concern grew that it would draw the northbound creatures back toward them if they caught the scent.
She still wasn’t certain they could actually smell, but something drew them forward and she didn’t need them reversing course.
The gravel road was now overgrown with 18-inch-tall weeds that rippled in the light draft that cut from south to north, and they made their way through carefully in the half-moonlit night.
The air was brisk – more cold – and Roxy knew they were going faster than they should because of it. Caution was the rule; this kind of cold was unlikely to kill them, but the dead would do so without question.
“Turn right,” said Liam when they reached Grove. “I saw that monster go the other way.”
Roxy smiled and nodded, and they turned right on Grove. She spotted a newer, two-story home on the northwest corner of Pine and Grove. “There,” she said. “Liam, you been in there before?”
“Yeah, it’s empty, and we always closed the doors after like you guys told us. There’s like four bedrooms in there, too. All with beds.”
Some of the mattresses had been taken by the survivors, but Roxy hoped there were at least two of them still there. Sleep would feel awfully good with a couple of people taking watch duty.
They approached the front door of the yellow house with a shingle roof and siding. It looked newer than the rest of the homes in the neighborhood, but upon closer inspection, it was only the paint giving it that appearance.
She listened, her ear pressed to the front door. “You’re like a fricking cop nowadays,” said Terry. “It’s like second nature, right?”
“I’m feeling kind of like a superhero these days, after my fall from the scaffolding. I don’t hear anything. Liam, you said it was empty?”
“Yep.”
“Here goes nothing. Guys, be ready.”
She turned the knob and pushed the door inward. It squeaked on its hinges and bumped the wall beside it.
Nothing came screaming out.
After another ten seconds, Roxy pulled a bullet from her vest and tossed it inside. It hit the wood floor with a loud tap, then bounced, tapped again, and rolled across the floor.
Nothing came in response.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
A scrape came from the street behind them, and all five turned to see a lone rotter, dragging his right leg behind him, moving from Grove up Pine Street.
Everyone holding their collective breath, they moved inside and Roxy eased the door closed. They moved into the living room beside the door, parted the curtains and all of them watched the creature continue its slow, plodding trek north.
When it disappeared from view, Terry waved everyone into the back of the house, to the kitchen. “Sit,” he said.
Roxy, Nina, Liam and Gabriel did.
“Okay. Rox has been working hard. She got us out of that damned auditorium, and frankly, I thought we were stuck up there until everyone got back from wherever they went. I say we do a quick search to see if we can find any food and water stored, then let Rox have a nap.”
“There are west and south-facing windows,” said Roxy. “I’m guessing those are bedrooms up there, so I’ll just sleep on the couch down here. Stay alert. Now, I’m going to check the basement for supplies. You guys check the kitchen pantry and anywhere else you think there might be food or water.”
Liam spoke up, his voice two octaves higher. “No, I got it!”
“Shh, Liam,” said Roxy. “Got what?”
“No, I can check down there, in the basement.”
“Why?”
“Just … because,” said Liam.
“I said I’ll do it, Liam. Now go with Terry –”
Liam got up and hurried to the basement door. He lifted a mat in front of the door and withdrew a key.
Before Roxy could catch up with him, he was inside, his headlamp turned on and trotting fast down the stairs.
She turned her flashlight on and descended the steps as quickly as she could.
When she reached the bottom, she saw Liam standing there, a stack of something in his hand. He quickly tossed them away as Roxy reached the bottom.
“Liam, what the hell is going on?”
“Nothing.”
They spoke without whispering now, as the sound was unlikely to travel beyond the walls of the house down there.
“It’s something,” she said, then walked over to where he’d thrown the items. Bending down, she picked up the old Penthouse Magazine.
Roxy smiled, then tossed the magazine aside. “The people living here must’ve been searching for a penthouse apartment in New York or something,” she said. “Can’t hurt to dream, right?”
“Uh … yeah. Right,” said Liam. “Cool.”
Roxy purposely averted her eyes from the remaining Playboys, Hustlers, Swanks and other porno magazines from a bygone era, her eyes falling on a pair of racks against the dusty walls.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “Did you know all this stuff was down here?”
He looked at the cans of food, the 5-gallon bottles of Sparklett’s water, the boxes of matches, lanterns, camping stoves, propane, and everything else. His mouth was wide open when he shook his head.
Roxy knew what had happened. When he and Brandon had come down here, they found the magazines first. Once they were discovered, they developed tunnel vision, only seeking them out on return trips.
“Don’t tell Brandon I showed you this place,” he said. “He’ll be mad at me.”
Roxy didn’t ask why Brandon would be angry with him. She was just thankful the boys had kept the door locked, preserving the supplies.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” said Roxy. “Now, you get upstairs and take the first watch with Ter. I’m hitting the couch.”
“I need to straighten up down here a little first. Clean up those … house magazines.”
Roxy winked at him and nodded, saying nothing. She hurried up the steps and found Terry to give him the good news.
Ω
The Cave Near the Henomawi Reservation
Garland finally worked his way clear of the steady line of dead making their way to the chute that would send them plummeting into the lower cavern.
The cavern where his friends now searched for a way out. He prayed they found an exit.
After climbing up a steep, slick 10-foot rock face using tiny handholds that he almost didn’t find, he reached a lower path. This route ran beside another pool of dank water; it might have been easy to maneuver, except for the skinwalkers above who got shoved over the edge or lost their footing as they made their way to the chute, following the other dead.
Each time one fell, Garland had to press his back against the stone face to make sure he didn’t get hit and have to deal with a dislocated shoulder, or God forbid, get knocked in himself.
Falling in t
hat pool would feel like being in a pool of piranhas. Just because they weren’t attracted to you didn’t mean you wouldn’t get caught by an errant tooth or a jagged fingernail.
Stretching one arm up to curl his wet fingers around a tiny ridge, he looked down to place his left foot.
At that moment, a twisting body dropped from above, slamming his shoulder and spinning him sideways. His slung M1 rifle swung, then slid from his shoulder, splashing into the water below.
Now, except for his Bowie knife, he was defenseless, save for Lester. He felt his side to make sure it was still there. It was. The Bowie was a damned good blade, but the bayonet on his M1 allowed him to stay farther away from his kills.
“Goddamnit!” he exclaimed, his breath coming fast as he hung from the lip above by one hand above the edge of the pool just feet below. His feet had both dislodged from the footholds, but with a jerk back to the left, he was able to jab his right boot back in.
He clung there for a long moment, pondering his almost-fate. He’d made it, but only by pure luck. And now he was disarmed.
Thank God for Lester, he thought. It was all he had left.
He gathered his nerves and continued shimmying along the narrow ledge back up to the main cave entrance.
When he cleared the pool, he found the angled, narrow path up to the cave entrance and scrambled up onto it. It only presented itself by the glow of what was probably a partial moon. Garland had a headlamp but didn’t want to turn it on in case the old man named Qaletaqa was watching from outside. He’d already called out when he almost fell, which might have been enough to alert him if he was there.
It seemed the girl had been right; the old Indian had obviously gathered an enormous horde of skinwalkers on his way from his reservation to this place, and it appeared he had directed them all into the cave.
No more were coming in, which was good. Not that any more were necessary; the number of zombies Garland saw could eat town after town with hardly any effort at all.
There were two hundred or so dead ones that had not yet made it to the chute leading to his friends, but they were lined up and heading in that direction, like deteriorating lemmings.
Judgement Page 27
