Chapter 23.
Finally, the story. The story that doesn't have me doing flashbacks. My hat is off to you if you skipped straight ahead to Chapter 23. No more back story, no more drama. From this point forward, as I see it, is as I report it to you.
I will step back in time once more, though. Back a few moments ago, for those of you who are just now joining us. I'm in a deserted village. There's a few clues that a massacre recently transpired. A bloody corpse here, blood trail there. I'm with a young South American native girl named Dena. She's in her late teens, an ownerless slave like me
Right now, we got a shotgun pointed at both of us, as night falls. I got a torch laying near my feet, Dena's got my arm in her hand, and my friend Dodge from long ago is pointing a shotgun at me and Dena. Dodge is in a wheelchair...if you want a more detailed recap, read the book. It's all in there. Knock yourself out.
As for me, I am going to deal with this shotgun toting idiot. Wish me luck.
"Dodge, it's me, you remember me, don't ya?"
Dodge looks at me, but the sun has gone down fully, and the quarter moon peeking out from the jungle horizon obscures us in darkness.
"Pick up the torch again, no funny stuff," Dodge says.
"Picking. Up. The. Torch." I pick it up, and it's nearly out. "Now Dodge, I'm going to swing this torch around. Breathe some life into the flame. Now you just keep your trigger finger from getting too itchy, OK?"
"Go ahead, time is short. We got company… in the field. They'll start coming for us soon."
I make a figure eight with the torch and the flame grows bright. I hold it under my face, the flame singeing my scruffy beard. The pungent smell of burning hair fills the air. The whining mosquitoes disperse from my ears for a moment. I can hear the crickets in the fields again.
"It's me, Dodge," I say.
He puts the shotgun in his lap, and wheels up to me.
"Mother of all things holy and sacred. Holy Moses! It is you. Give me a hug man!"
I bend down and Dodge's hug is weak. I hold the torch down by him; he's now half the man he used to be. Being half a man already, I'm no mathematician, but I think it makes him smaller. His arms are smaller, thinner, but still muscular. His face is gaunt and haggard. He has had a rough life in South America.
"Well, listen man, I'm sorry for the welcoming committee. But we need to get our bearings, and we need to get them quick. Whatever manner of evil did this to my village is nothing to the wrath the villagers will have once they start coming up from death, OK? We need to get to that radio tower."
"The radio is out," I say.
"It is? Well, no cavalry for us. Doesn't matter. We need to get up there and kick down those stairs. I have a contingency plan up there."
We walk, he wheels. We get to the stairs.
"Now what?" I ask.
"Carry me up, I can’t walk right now."
By walk, he means crawl around on his hands. He ain't got legs. Want to know why? Again, go back and read the story.
I let the girl go first, and I bend down and Dodge grabs onto my neck. He makes my legs buckle. I have to shimmy up the stairs, and I rest at the landing as we round the corner.
"Come on, man. Get a move on. These stairs won't kick themselves down. Let's go!"
I pick him up and drag him into the second story room of the radio tower.
"Alright, there are four pins on each post. Look like giant cotter pins."
"Well, what the hell does a cotter pin look like, Dodge? I'm no mechanic."
"Just go under each main post there. That's it...reach under there-"
"-Any spiders?" I ask.
"Spiders? I don't know. Maybe. How long have you been in the jungle, dude? Yes, probability of spiders being under where you’re reaching is high. Probability of zombies climbing up those stairs is higher. Which would you rather get bitten by?"
"OK, OK. Still the same old Dodge. OK, I feel the pin, do I pull it out?"
"No, not yet. Go down to the landing around the corner and pull out the first staircase. Then do the landing. Then for safe measure, pull out those you have your hands on now."
He speaks gibberish to the girl and she comes out to help me. I hear a groan out in the field. Then another. Soon, the groans are spread out further and more frequent then the cricket and frog chirps. I hear a crash from somewhere down the village main path.
The girl and I get the first set of pins out, and the bottom staircase falls with a loud thud. Then she screams.
"Aeeeiiiiiiiiiii!"
I wave the torch around and standing below us is a zombie. Horrid looking guy. No lips and all teeth, and deep set eyes. He was no looker in life, that's for sure. Being a zombie just brings out the inner ghoul in him. Plus, he's naked. Big plates in his ears. At first I think he has a worm hanging from his mouth, but now I see it's just his lower lip. In his past life, he probably stretched that out with a six inch plug of colored wood. Now it's been torn in two, and dangles from the right side of his face like that rubbery pink thing hanging off the side of a turkey beak. (The snood, for you ornithologists.)
The fresh zombies are always the worst; they look like they're still living people. Slightly put out, like this guy was run over and has crawled out from beneath the car and demands to see insurance papers.
I'm ogling him, and luckily, the girl is a bit more on the ball. She's pulling the pins for the landing. Only, I'm still on the landing.
"Wait, wait...wait!" I yell. Too late. She pulls one of the pins, and I go sliding down the landing, almost fall right on top of Mr. Turkey down below. He growls as I scramble up the landing.
The girl looks at me seriously, like she meant to do that. I motion for her to get upstairs, and I pull the remaining pins. The landing goes down with a loud crash that echoes out into the field. Any zombie that didn't know our whereabouts...well, they know where we are now.
I climb the stairs; me and the girl are standing in the doorway.
"Hey Dodge, there is no way the zombies can reach up to the bottom of these stairs, it's at least eight feet off the ground."
"Oh? Family in Peru would beg to differ. Fishing hut, far inland. Up on stilts twenty feet in the air. Pulled up their ladder, flood came in, washed two zombies within feet of the floor of their hut. They climbed up, ate the family."
"Are you telling me you expect a flood to happen, tonight...there's not a cloud in the sky...and we're how far from the river?"
"I don't know, why don't you tell me? How far do you think we are from the river, Smarty Pants?"
"A mile?"
"1 and 1/4 miles, well within the flood plain. Not only are we in the middle of the Amazon, but I have also lived here for over ten years. Drop the staircase, I have contingency plans."
I go outside, and listen to Dodge rattle off the main excuse, that I'm lazy and have problems with authority. I pull the four final pins and get in the room with Dodge and the girl. The girl kicks at the staircase, and it goes down with such a huge crash the building shakes. I hear Mr. Turkey crushed below. He lets out a sad groan and dies twice in one day. Poor guy.
I go inside with the girl. "OK, Dodge. Let's get one thing straight. You and I? Equals. Always have been, always will be. I don't have a problem with authority. I just need to know the reason why I'm doing something. That's all. I'm not here to argue."
"On that topic, what does bring you here?"
"Well, not arguing, that's for sure."
We sit in silence. Down below, a chorus of moaning and groaning comes up through the cool night air slow and steady. Every now and then a crashing noise comes up as the zombies meander through the empty village. The zombies try to recapture the spirit of the living. They are walking memories, and they do not smell. Yet.