“We’re here,” I said, ducking behind a small hedgerow.
“There are definitely zombies around.” He wrinkled his nose.
“I’m just hoping it’s the dead ones,” I said as I poked my head up to look at the staircases. They were littered with zombies, some still moving, albeit not in a vertical position. Severed spines and broken necks or blown off legs were making any true form of locomotion difficult. The problem was that they would be able to communicate with their brethren if they caught wind of us.
“That’s gross,” BT said, pointing to a zombie that was pulling itself along the ground with its chin,. Glass and stone were embedded on the bottom of its face, blood was pouring from the wound as it shredded the soft skin. Leaving something akin to a giant red snail-trail
“I wonder what pulled zombie tastes like?” I asked. “I can’t help it, the meat strips hanging off its chin remind me of barbecue. No one ever said I was right in the head.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“What are we waiting for?” BT asked as he watched my concern. “None of them here can catch us.”
“The zombies can talk to each other,” I told him as I got back down behind cover.
He looked at me for a bit. He didn’t question my statement in the least. “I really hate zombies.”
“That makes two of us. We need to finish off the survivors as quickly as possible.”
BT grabbed his rifle.
“Nope.” I pulled my machete from its scabbard.
“Oh come on, man, I’m clean. I’ve got on new shoes. You’ve gotta know how much brothers value new shoes.”
“Take them off then.”
“That’s cold, man. That’s just cold.”
He might have thought it was ‘cold’ but he was serious about the shoes. He took them off, tied the laces together, hung them around his neck, and then put them down his shirt.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“How the fuck do I always get accused of having the issues?”
“You tell anybody about this and we’re through.”
“Nice socks.” He was wearing argyle.
“Just because it’s the end of the world doesn’t mean I should dress that way.”
“I’d love to debate high-fashion with you, but I want to get this shit over with.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“Damn, are there zombies close by?” I asked, looking around quickly.
BT was on high alert.
“False alarm,” I said, looking at his socks.
“My feet do not stink!”
“Says you,” I told him as I stood. I wanted to come up on the side of the zombies and give them as little time to shout a warning or a dinner bell. BT was right behind. I won’t even go into the litany of curses he expressed when his sock-clad foot came down in what we both hoped was dog crap.
“Don’t say a fucking word.” He bent and gingerly pulled off his sock.
“Damn, your toes look like sausages. And I’m not talking those little cocktail wieners either. Those are like full grilling sausages. Get a bun and some sautéed onions, someone could have a feast.”
“Shut the fuck up, Talbot.”
“Spicy mustard.”
He glared at me. I did the wise thing and went silent…for a second or two.
“And not that I like it, but maybe that German coleslaw looking stuff.
“It’s sauerkraut and shut the fuck up.”
“Well, I know who I’m eating first if I go cannibal.”
“Done?”
“I wonder how they’d grill up? Alright, alright, I’m sorry…it’s my coping mechanism. Do you use ketchup on brats?”
“As soon as I’m done with the zombies me and you are going to have a talk.”
We were about ten feet away when the first zombie caught sight or wind of us—probably smelled BT. I drove my machete through the relatively soft part of its skull where its nose was. I wrenched it free just as BT was bludgeoning another. I hoped he wasn’t noticing the gore that had sprayed all over his chest and was even now most likely soaking through to the shoes he was so adamant about protecting. We moved quickly, putting the zombies down, I caught some ‘chatter’ in the back of my head but it was weak and not sustained. I felt fairly confident that, by the time we finished off the five or six that were still alive, they had not successfully gotten off a distress beacon. Not that they were all that altruistic to begin with or they wouldn’t have left their fallen here. If they started to care about their own, we’d be over. Dying for others was a uniquely human trait and signified a higher order of thought, one of the few things that separated us from other animals.
Now, that is in no way implying that I think all humans are better than all animals, far from it. I’d had enough examples even before the zombies to prove that. I’m just saying that if zombies started looking out for their own, any odds of man making a comeback would be greatly reduced.
I put my hand on BT’s arm, halting his progress as I went up the stairs. Each step seemed harder than the one before it. By the time I got to the top, I didn’t think I was going to be able to move my feet; it was not ‘like’ a nightmare, it was one. My niece still lay where I had shot her. She looked almost peaceful. I had to hope I had put her out of some misery. I placed one hand under her neck and the other under her knees. She was so light. My throat closed in pain as I picked her up. I just wanted her to wrap her arms around my neck and tell me she was alright and that I had saved her. Instead, her arms hung limply from her body. The deep purplish color on her features destroyed any fantasy I could possibly have that she yet lived.
“Some fucking hero I am,” I said as I descended the stairs.
“I’m so sorry, man.” BT said as he watched me carry her down.
I couldn’t say anything more. To speak would have opened up the floodgates. There was a park in the center of town I remembered seeing when we had come in; that seemed as fitting a place as any to lay her to rest, and it would be easy enough for Ron and his family to find and visit when and if they would someday get a chance.
The wise and prudent thing to do would have been to dig a few feet down and lay her in peace. We went down six. How could I ever explain it to my brother if hungry dogs dug her up? We were almost at completion when I realized nothing would touch her, she was contaminated. Odds were, even the worms would steer clear. This was doing little to help my mood, which was already as sour as old lemonade.
I was putting the last few shovelfuls on top. BT sat down at a bench and was putting his shoes back on, grumbling about some stains or something. But I knew he was really trying to focus on anything other than what was going on. Hell, if I cared enough about my shoes I would have been right next to him.
“You going to say a prayer?” he asked as I tossed the shovel aside.
“Why? God already failed.”
“Take that back.” BT stood.
Well, now I was going to deal with the wrath of God and the wrath of BT, and BT was closer near as I could tell.
“He doesn’t mean that,” BT said, looking up, I guess trying to cover for my blasphemy.
Honestly, I don’t know if I meant it or not. I’d had my issues with faith since I’d turned thirteen and, as a teenager, decided I knew it all. Thus far, my immediate family was safe, but at what cost? I’d lost a son-in-law, my best friend and his wife, my niece, my father, and my soul. God charged more interest than a mafia don. Still, it could be worse…infinitely worse.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I bowed my head. “Sometimes the burden gets too great.” I didn’t get an actual response, but I swear I got the sensation of ‘I’ll let it slide this time’.
BT stepped up, and for that I was appreciative. “God, please let this girl lie in peace, and let her family find solace in the fact that she is out of pain,” BT said, wringing his
hands together. I did make the sign of the trinity upon my chest and we left.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” BT asked when we were far enough away from the gravesite--as if at this distance the big guy wouldn’t hear him. “Pissing me off is one thing, pissing your wife off is another more stupid thing. But Him?” He pointed up. “What is wrong with you?”
“He understands,” I told him.
“You say that like you met.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Wait? Did you? Forget it I really don’t want to know.”
“He doesn’t like Jar Jar Binks…He told me so,” I said.
“That doesn’t prove you met God, but if you did, I guess that does make Him wise. Forget it. I don’t even want to know how the conversation went. Knowing you, I can’t believe He didn’t just strike you down where you were.”
“That’s kind of funny, because that’s what I said to him.”
“You’re kidding right? Forget it, man. You’re fucking nuttier than trail mix.”
We walked a little further, an uneasy silence building between us.
Finally BT spoke again in hushed tones, “Did He say anything about me?”
“He did say something about maybe picking my friends better, but most of the conversation revolved around Star Wars.”
“I’m done with you, man. My momma always said crackers were crazy, something about their white skin not being able to stop the sun from cooking their brains.” He widened his stride to pull away from me.
I smiled, with no idea why I thought poking the giant was a good idea, but just being around him lightened my heart. He was as true a friend as I had ever walked in life with, and the sooner we could find Doc and get him fixed up, the better. Just as the first rays of brightness cut through the fog that had enshrouded me, I watched as BT’s steps faltered. He went down quickly to one knee, his right hand shot out and grabbed a hold of the chain link fence next to him. That kept him from falling over. I rushed up to his side. His face was twisted in agony.
“BT?” I asked in alarm.
“I’m alright,” he hissed through his clenched jaw.
“Doubtful. Is it your leg?”
“Worse.”
Fuck. I knew what that meant. “Don’t hate me for this,” I told him. I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I picked him up much like I had Melanie earlier and honestly it wasn’t even that much more strain. I would imagine it would have looked pretty funny to an outsider; it would have looked like Beauty carrying the Beast. Of course I’m the beauty, I’m sure you can figure out who the beast was in this statement. He had to have been in a crap-load of pain, because he didn’t so much as grunt at me as I started running back to the DPW yard.
The extra strength I possessed made him feel like I was carrying a kid around ten-ish—so, not a great burden—but after a while, even that will begin to weigh in on your reserves. I was pondering how long I thought I could keep this pace up with him in my arms when I caught sight of movement through my peripheral vision.
“Zombies, always zombies. Couldn’t be a fucking ice cream truck or maybe a herd of cute little deer. Nope has to be fucking zombies.”
“Ice cream would be nice,” BT wheezed.
I took a quick glance to my side. I had about a half mile to get to where I needed to be, and if I was doing my head-math right, I was going to come up short in this equation. The half dozen or so zombies had taken an angle on us and would catch up in the next couple of street poles.
“I’ve got something for you to eat!” I shouted.
I was pissed off at the world right now. I put BT down as gently as I could, my arms felt not quite like rubber, but they were throbbing a bit. I grabbed my machete at first.
“Screw that.”
I let it fall back into its sheath. I pulled my rifle off my shoulder, pulled back the charging handle a couple of inches to make sure I had a round in the chamber, flipped off the safety, and sprayed the closest zombie with three quick rounds.
“How’s that feel, fucker!?” I shouted as his head mushroomed and he fell backwards smashing his already shattered skull. “That’s so damn good I bet you want some too, you ugly fucker!” I said to the second approaching zombie.
The first round caught him in the chest, the second in the head. It snapped back and then fell face forward. Nothing stopping his torque as he plummeted, the crack of skull on pavement made a satisfying ‘thwack’.
“Good shit, right?” I asked his still form.
Then the damn zombies did something I wasn’t expecting. The remaining five stopped running towards me. I lowered my rifle a little bit.
“What’s the matter, you guys not hungry enough? Am I not tasty looking enough for you? What about my friend over here, he could feed a fucking village!”
BT feebly put up his hand in protestation. “Leave me out of this.”
The zombies had just plain stopped their forward progress. Don’t get me wrong, they were eyeing us hungrily, but I could also see they were assessing the risk and reward of this venture.
“Not a damn fan of smart zombies!” I shouted, blasting a third into whatever hell it belonged.
They had to have been talking, because they turned and ran at the same time; not far though. Just far enough to watch, but not close enough that they figured I would shoot at them.
I stood there a few moments longer, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. When it became clear that the ones left were not going to charge, I guessed it was time to leave. I released my magazine, quickly jammed in some new rounds, and then put it back in the magazine well. When I looked back up, one of the zombies had vanished, my guess was to go and get his whole damn village. BT was pulling himself up.
“You alright?” I asked, grabbing him under the arm.
“Better, it’s passed.”
He said it like he was familiar with it. “This has happened before?”
“Ever since I’ve been bit, been getting more frequent since Eliza died, though, and more painful.”
“It’s progressing.”
“At least we know where Justin gets it from,” he said as he stood up completely. “You tell anybody you were carrying me and I’ll sneeze on everything you own.”
“That hurts, man, but we have a deal.”
BT pretty much kept his gaze forward as if every step was a chore. I, however, stopped every few paces to do a three-sixty and see if we were yet being pursued. Our small tailing contingent stayed back about fifty yards and on the other side of the street. It was not a welcome feeling to have them stalking us like that. Herding came into my head on more than one occasion.
“We need to step it up, bud,” I told BT.
He grunted but did as I asked. I had the distinct impression we were being led to the slaughter. The zombies behind followed diligently, never pressing the attack, just like the good little sheepherders they were. And then I saw two things almost simultaneously; one was rejoice worthy, the other…not so much. As we rounded a bend on Chestnut Drive, I saw the front gate to the public works yard…and also a shitload of zombies sprinting headlong towards us. They would pass by the gate coming towards us before we would have a chance to get there.
“I see them,” BT said. He pulled his gun up, his hands visibly shaking. I knew it was from the pain and not the sight of the zombies.
Tommy and Travis were at the gate. They had heard my earlier shots and were looking for any signs of trouble when they saw the zombie horde.
“Going to need some help!” I yelled, getting Travis’ attention.
“Justin! Gary! Mom!” he yelled behind him as I watched him get his rifle up.
Tommy was already cycling rounds through his weapon. Travis was soon behind him, adding his lead to the fight. BT and I were firing as we moved. Within short seconds, Tracy and Justin joined the mix. The zombies paid them absolutely no heed as they passed by even as scores of them were being rendered dead. If my magazine had not run dry at just that moment
, I would have missed the zombies from the rear. They had started coming for us once they saw that we were distracted. I had been fumbling in my pocket for my loaded magazine when I caught sight of them.
“Son of a bitch,” I said as I slammed the magazine home and spun, firing with less than three feet between me and the nearest one. I’d only had enough time to get the barrel up about chest high before he tried to impale himself on it. I shot two rounds center mass into him attempting to create some distance between us. The second round must have caught him in the spine. It was enough to push him back off my muzzle and allow me to raise the rifle up. His forehead sizzled as he made contact with the hot metal.
“Nice brand, bitch,” I said as I double-tapped his skull.
He fell away just as his girlfriend came up to get in on the action. An anemic, crack addict with an eating disorder couldn’t have looked worse than the thing that begged me to kill her. I happily obliged. The first round caught her in her brown, cracked teeth. The second blew the top of her patchy haired scalp clean off. The third and final zombie from the back stopped in mid-street and was looking to pull his iron out of the fire. I didn’t give him the chance.
“You’re like those little fucking yippy dogs that always wait for the person to turn around before they nip at people’s heels,” I was screaming as I advanced. “Well no more ankles for you to bite, fucker!” Two rounds later and he became a stain on the roadway.
I turned back to the front. We were screwed. The zombies had made it past the Talbot family gauntlet. There was nowhere to run.
“It’s been a pleasure, my friend,” I said to BT as I started firing.
“See, Talbot? This is what pissing off God does for you! Crazy-ass cracker.”
BT was in the midst of reloading and I had a pretty good count on my rounds. I would take as much time as I could between shots so that we would not both be empty at the same time. BT’s hands were shaking so bad that he fumbled and dropped his magazine.
Frustration welled up in me and threatened to come out in an anguished scream. Not sure what that would accomplish, and there really wasn’t any sense in my last dying words being a dick to my friend. It was then that I heard—well I guess we, I saw BT’s head pop up and realized he’d heard it too—the deep throaty roar of a powerful engine revving. This was going to be one of those few times when the zombies being smarter actually worked out in our favor. Not all, but at least some stopped to see what was going on. This gave me enough time to pop another magazine in. Two more after this one and then it was machete time. Oh boy, couldn’t wait for that! Nothing quite like being covered in hot entrails.