Amazombia

  Chapter 26.

  All day, I run. At night, we camp. Dodge's a good shot with his gun, and he feeds me well, but only at night. And he lets me drink all I want at night, too. During the day, nothing. No food, no drink, just miles. For days and days, I run. The carriage glides quietly behind me. The zombies march effortlessly, their footsteps in unison, tireless, relentless. I am their motivation, and whenever I look back, my stomach goes into knots. The path finally runs alongside a river. For miles and miles, I run alongside the river. Now and then Dodge tells me to "speed up", "slow down," and "hang on."

  He talks aimlessly about his philosophies when he gives me enough time to catch my breath. Survival of the fittest. Purging the earth of the weak and timid.

  "The Amazonians,” Dodge says, “they have the right idea. I've been to their villages out east, you know. It really is a paradise. They just need a man to show them how to really run things. You want to know the amazing part? They started from scratch. Scratch! New buildings, stone and finished timber. Schools, shops. You will be amazed when you see. Unlike anything you saw before. A marvel. I give them credit where credit is due.”

  “That’s a lie. I bet you’ve never found the Amazons. Amazons don’t want to be found. I should know.”

  “OK, break time's over. We need to get up to the next village by nightfall if we're to make good time. Giddyup! Hyeah!"

  He's laughing behind me. I can barely run. My bones ache, my joints ache, my muscles feel like rubber. I have a beating headache. Unlike the Mexican, Dodge doesn't allow me to drink. He thinks the water will slow down my pace.

  The zombies are tireless in their pursuit. Their necks strain under the pull of the noose when they get the carriage moving. Then they each grab hold of the pole and start pulling. Sometimes they hold on with two arms. Sometimes with one. It's when they hold with one that makes my skin crawl. Their other hand held out taut in front of them. They're yanking, and thrashing now and then, like they will break free. Only they never do. But they don't feel disappointment, or futility, or hopelessness in their efforts to grab at me. Some of the zombies have twisted grins of hatred, and lust to eat me. Dogged. Dogged pursuit, zombie man and zombie woman.

  Strong, too. We come to a small rise as the path leads away from the river and goes around a thick patch of jungle. Right up the incline, they never break pace. The only way to get away from zombies, when they're not tied to a cart driven by a mad man, you sprint. Quarter mile, half mile. Even a hundred yards. Give yourself enough time to get out of sight.

  I know, I know. They have that sixth sense. A zombie always knows where the living is. But a zombie always goes for the low lying fruit. That is what I keep in the back of my mind, as Dodge hides behind his blanket, egging the zombies on that I'm the easier target. Not him high up in his chariot. I just need to bide my time and turn the tables. I continue to run.

  As the sun sets behind us, and the path leads back towards the river, I see off in the distance the first signs of civilization in these grasslands: a bull. Big and fat, it lies under a tree and quietly smells the flowers like Ferdinand the Bull. We come up to a pasture that hugs the river and spreads out far off to the horizon. The jungle is cut back, foreboding walls of green act like giant fences. Cows graze their dinner. The zombies ignore the cows. The zombies reach only for me.

  "Far enough," Dodge says. "Stop under there, by that tree with the bull. That's where we park my chariot."

  He pulls the brakes, and I flop between the bull and the zombies. The bull gets up and runs towards his harem. The zombies pull at their nooses, reaching at me.

  "They'll never stop, will they?" I say out loud.

  "Just like we can't stop breathing. Deep breaths. I need you to wheel me into the village."

  He climbs down, and he again doesn't want my help pulling down his wheelchair. But once he sits in it, he snaps his fingers, and cradles that shotgun on his lap like it's a pet dog. He strokes it and looks back at me as I push him past the zombies, past the grazing cows, and into the village.

  "What do we got up here, anyway, Dodge? Friends of yours?"

  "Not we…me. No, not friends of mine. Business partners. Castaways from the Rockettes further east."

  "How much further east?"

  "Never mind. It's no concern of yours."

  "Can you at least tell me what kind of business you got going on here, Dodge?"

  "No. Look, it's nothing personal. It's better that you don't know, for your own protection. Just do as you’re told. Didn't your boss teach you that slaves aren't to talk to their masters?"

  "I thought you were my friend, Dodge."

  "No. We are not friends. Our friendship ended the day I delivered you to South America with a gentle push. My debt was paid to you. And your debt to society apparently has never been paid up, now has it?"

  "That's bull, and you know it. The Prince set me free back in Vegas. Technically, I'm a free man."

  "Tell that to your tattoo. No. He only set you free to find another master. See, in life, there will always be those that rule, and those that need to be ruled. I'm a natural born ruler. In six more months, I will rule all the northern territories. From Panama right down to Guyana. And over to parts of Ecuador. Though, I have to admit, the terrain can have its ups and downs out west. I’ll be top dog. Soon, too. You just remember, when I say jump, don't ask 'How high?'...just jump, got it?"

  "Yeah, I got it."

  "What?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "That's better."

  I wheel him into the village, and it has the smell of decay within it. Everything is run down, neglected. And the castoffs? The first woman I see is huge. Well over six feet tall, but she's old. Her cheekbones poke out of the sides of her face like an old orangutan. Her eyes have bags under them, she walks around in a daze, doesn't even look at us as we go down the path.

  The next lady too. Grey haired, gaunt. Ribs showing through, if she didn't cough now and then, I would mistake her for a zombie easily. The whole village is like this, right down the main square. The village looks like its inhabitants: tired. Weeds poke through the middle of the road. The stone lined well has chickens perched all along the edge. It smells like rotten eggs as I peak down it as we go by.

  Dodge has me wheel him up to this one hut that has two women sitting with their legs splayed wide out front. Their sarongs doing nothing to cover up their nether regions. They look at us blankly.

  Dodge speaks gibberish, and one of the women points to another hut a few doors down. A tall women, much younger than the rest, walks out into the middle of the road. Right past us. Big head, and she has a fat face. Even though her body is not too bad, her face has a lot of fat around it. And when she looks at me. Ugh. Castaway doesn't do this one justice. She’s got a beard. She grabs one of the chickens by the well and whacks its head against the bannister holding a decrepit roof over the well. The chicken flaps helplessly in her over-sized hand.

  Dodge makes me stop in front of the hut that the women pointed to. He gets off his chair and climbs into the hut. There is a shriek, then a lot of laughter. Dodge and a woman inside talk in Portuguese. Even in gibberish, I can tell the woman's laughter is forced. She pokes her face out of the door. She's youngish, late twenties. She looks like the chicken killer, only her face is softer around the eyes, and no beard. Her eyes don't have a harsh look to them, but they somehow look evil. Like she’s a schemer. She looks at me and laughs, and then I can see subtle lines of hatred that the chicken killer didn’t have. They must be sisters, I guess. She laughs and Dodge laughs from inside, then he pokes his head out of the hut, and laughs at me.

  The chicken killer whacks a few more birds against the bannister, then she takes a seat by the splay legged women. She starts plucking the birds. My mouth starts watering, I haven't eaten all day.

  "Hey Dodge," I whisper into the hut.

  He comes out of the hut, naked. "What?"

  "You mind if I catch some grub down by the river?"

&n
bsp; "No, you hang tight until I'm done in here. You can wait." He ducks back inside and there's some quiet gibberish talk by him to the girl, then loud laughter by both.

  I sit and wait, and I listen to them rutting inside until its pitch black out. The chicken killer has the birds cooking over a small fire. When they’re crispy, I watch her take some banana leaves and make a plate of chickens. She walks it over to the hut that Dodge and her sister are in. She grunts out some gibberish, and her sister comes out, covered in a white sheet. She pushes the chicken on her sister, and the other drops the sheet. I can't see too much, I only hear the sheet drop to the ground, and they both curse at each other.

  Dodge yells some gibberish inside, and the chicken killer sulks off. There's laughter in the hut again, and the chicken killer turns and stares down the laughter from afar. A group of lanky giants walk up to her, and one hugs her as the others walk up to the hut that Dodge is in. Their feet and calves are covered in white powder, like they have white socks on. All I see in the darkness are white feet going here and there. Phantom socks walking the street with invisible people wearing them.

  Dodge comes out for a bit, lounges on the porch of the rut hut. He's smoking a cigarette, and if it were not for his loss of legs, I would think him a gigolo. He whistles, and the chicken killer comes over with another plate of chicken and a lantern. Dodge turns the lantern up bright, and the glare hurts my eyes. I get up from the dirt I've been lying in, resting, hungry.

  "Here," he says, and breaks off a chicken leg and throws it at me. I devour it, and he throws the other leg at me. It falls into the dirt, and I devour that one too. I hope he's going to break off the wings, but no luck. He makes the chicken killer take the rest inside.

  The sisters argue again, and the chicken killer comes out of the hut crying.

  I whistle to her, and she comes over to me. She shuffles her feet in front of me, studying me, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She points at my hat a couple of times, and then tries taking it off my head.

  “This? Oh you can’t have this, miss. It doesn’t even belong to me.”

  She cries softly.

  I take off the Stetson and give it to her. “Take it, it’s a gift.”

  She puts it on, and smiles, then lopes off down the path towards the cart. It's quiet inside the hut for a while. Soft talking. Then I hear the sister call out for the chicken killer, at least I think it's a name she's shouting out.

  "Barba! Barba!"

  She comes out on the porch, and Dodge follows, then he shouts, "Barba!"

  Barba the chicken killer comes running with some bottles, I can smell the bourbon from here. She gives me back the hat. She walks up slow as she approaches the hut, and then the sisters start exchanging words again. Barba offers her the bottles, and her sister tears them from her hands.

  The sister starts going inside, when Barba says something to Dodge. She's talking in hushed tones to Dodge. Dodge looks at me, and the two sisters look at each other, and then the one that's been screwing Dodge looks over at me. And she and Dodge laugh. She goes inside, and Dodge and Barba talk a bit more. Dodge shrugs, and motions for me to get up.

  "Come on. Look alive when I call you," he says. I step on the porch, and I see how tall Barba is as I stand next to her. She towers over me.

  "Well, today's your lucky day, Pal," Dodge says. "You're about to make love to a beautiful Amazon. This girl here wants you bad."

  "No thanks, I already made love to an Amazon, my wife. I have no interest, but thanks." I look up at Barba, "Thank you, but no."

  Dodge grabs my tattered shirt and pulls me down. The shirt rips. He knocks my cowboy hat off.

  "It's not an option. What's the matter, can't you see? She's not so bad in the dark. Just pretend she's Riley."

  "No, I'm not doing it. I won't taint my sacred vows. You'll have to shoot me, Dodge."

  "Oh, I have no problem doing that," he says, and goes inside the hut and comes out with the Saturday Night special. "You remember this, don't you? Sure you do. Look, you’re going to be staying here a while, you may as well be comfortable. All that running I had you do was for a reason. It will make stomping coca leaves that much easier. She’s just icing on the cake, isn’t that right sweetheart?"

  Barba takes my arm, and gets between me and Dodge. She grabs me and says soft things in slurry talk. She turns and talks to Dodge, and she picks up my hat and leads me off the porch. She puts my hat on her head.

  Dodge laughs, "Don't wear yourself out too much, we have a big load to hall tomorrow."

  Barba leads me down to where she plucked the chickens. I stand, and wait by the fire. She comes out of the hut, and she looks back towards Dodge, but he's inside. We can hear them whooping it up in there. She pulls my arm, and leads me out of the village. She gives me my hat, and we walk up towards the zombies.

  The moon is half full now, and it casts the grasslands in a blue hue. Barba stops and lights a small lantern with a lighter. When it's lit, she leads me quickly down the path.

  "Slow down, will ya lady? I've been running for days."

  She just sinks her claws deep into my arm and yanks at me. She leads me off the path, away from the river, and towards an oasis of palm trees. I think back to that first night leaving the stone house. I think about George.

  Barba pulls me hard because I'm not walking fast enough to her liking. I'm not doing anything with this she-beast. Even if she looked like a million bucks, that part of me ain’t for her.

  "Pull all you want, miss. Once we get to your little love shack in there, you'll be sorely disappointed. Amore? Is that the word? No Amore, senorita. No more love for me."

  We get close to the oasis. She urges me inside under the palm trees.

  "No love, do you understand?"

  She pushes me in further, I nearly trip.

  "No. Love. Comprende. No!"

  I feel her big paws grabbing at me in the dark, and I slap her away.

  "No, Barba. No!"

  Hands reach over my body, cover my face. Not just my mouth. My whole face. I go to scream. I get turned around.

  I stand face to face with George.