A Very Good Man (7 page)

  He should have whispered Jake thought. If he'd whispered Jake might have paused for a bit. Yelling was a reason to shoot, dream or not.

  The bang caused a tumult, people couldn't help screaming being woken like that. The second man had a knife as well, so he got shot too. Now Jake could just hope he hadn't gotten anyone that he actually liked. That always made killing people harder.

  People started to stand in the room, including, by voice and the size of the silhouette, Nate, who the two men had been standing over, or at least near. He always took the position by the door, since it would be the one in the most danger if an attack came. Jake always pulled the far wall for the same reason. Or maybe not exactly the same. Really Nate did it because the others were afraid, Jake did it because he was.

   So not at all alike. It had worked out for Nate though, this time.

  Moving carefully past the form on the bed with him, just standing and walking on the mattress he flowed across the room toward the men on the floor by the door. Nate held his hands out and identified himself clearly. It was dark after all.

  “I'm Nate Green.” He said.

  “Jake.” The answer was automatic. It was also pretty close to the first thing they'd said to each other, on the second day, when they'd met on the street.

  The shadowed form nodded and Jake pointed at the people on the floor as everyone else started to gather around slowly.

  “Who...” This came from behind him, the woman from his bed. Nate knelt and examined the first one, checking the pulse at the neck.

  “Dead.” He said, just in time for the one next to him to surge up and try to attack.

  Moron.

  He could have possibly escaped if he hadn't moved. Jake thought this right after he blew the man's brains out. It was instinct now, to shoot at the least sign of trouble. This time it worked. It would probably be a problem if things ever became more civilized again though. Kill the mailman for knocking or hunt down the neighbor's dog for being a little too loud.

  Carl came to the door, massive, muscular and grumbling slightly, a deep sound that was half felt, not just heard. He had a lit candle with him.

  “Who'd we lose?” He asked, noticing that Jake was armed. Not why it happened. Not yet. Just who.

  Then he noticed the knives and grunted again, kicking one of the blades free from a dead hand. Lowering himself he held the candle close to the faces, one couldn't be recognized, but the other was one of Holsom's crew. The other guy would be the last man then. Jake thought the clothing matched. Hard to tell given the light. It made perfect sense that Holsom would send two goons instead of trying to take Nate himself. This way the softies with them could say it hadn't been their pretty boy Derrick and give him yet another chance.

  Maybe he really could get that gun for Sammi.

  Jake just sighed. It was going to be a long day. It always was when you had to argue with stupid people.

  He quickly reloaded the forty-five, an old and slightly clunky revolver, then strapped his nine into place. The forty-five went into the small of his back, which was a constant annoyance but mainly when sitting. Since he only sat at meals anymore it wasn't such a huge issue. The light was still dim, so Jake asked Carl to hold the candle while he dragged the bodies outside. Nate signaled a few people in the dark room to help as well and someone moved in next to him, grabbing a shoulder and pulled the man down the stairs with a series of thumps. A lot of noise for this early in the day, but everyone would be awake already. Gunfire always woke him up at least. Better for getting people going than coffee.

  Outside he could make out his helper's face, Carley. She looked scared and stared at him nervously for a few seconds, then hugged him. It was a simple panic reaction, he knew, so Jake didn't read anything into it. It was nice though, even if it was coming from someone that really didn't like him very much. Since all this happened he'd only gotten three hugs, and one of those had been a zombie. The other had been Nate.

  “Fuck. I hate this. I hate it all.” She said, keeping her voice low, nearly in his left ear.

  “Yeah. It's really screwed up. We deserve at least eight solid hours sleep a night and here these assholes don't even let us get six. I say we kill them both... Oops, too late.” He whispered this back and the woman nearly lost it, she had to tuck her head into his collar to muffle the sounds. That was fine. As long as she wasn't loud about it, she could do what she wanted. It was a confusing half-laugh, half-sob thing right now, but whatever worked for her, right?

  They were all dressed. No one wore pajamas to sleep in anymore, even in the heat. That could be miserable, but they all did it. Not everyone was a cleaner though.

  Carley wore a sensible pair of shorts and a light shirt. Jake had on jeans, a t-shirt and a heavy denim jacket. Way too hot, but comfort was a luxury for after this was over. A few layers of heavy material had been all that saved him on two occasions already. One of them just coming out of sleep, a lot like this. Only with zombies instead of armed idiots.

  The pile of bodies was impressive now, five of them. Getting a machete from Burt's workshop, Jake beheaded them all. It took work, and enough hits that his hand and arm got sore before he was done, but ten minutes after he was done the bodies were ready to be buried. Tipper and Vickie helped him load the cart and they started down the road. It would be a pain to take the bodies that far away, nearly a mile toward town, like he planned. It always was. Not doing it meant a chance of drawing in zombies like moths to a flame though. Burt figured it was the blood, the scent of it, but whatever the reason, they'd try to find fresh dead. It took an hour to get nearly two miles away, and another for the shallow grave. If they'd wanted a Christian burial they should have left a note, because what they got was Tipper saying a few words.

  “You stupid fucks. You deserved this.” She said, smiling.

  Not well balanced Tipper, Jake realized, then who was? Vickie laughed a little, not wanting to seem too sane herself apparently, that or it was an inside joke.

  Jake just sighed.

  “Yeah... You really did. Except Sara maybe. She should have just shut up. Sleep now. Rest in peace.” They would, Jake knew, that's why he'd taken their heads.

  Zombies could live without a head, keep moving and even attacking. That was a bit gross of course and eerie as a single arm kept moving or a lower torso tried to walk, flopping on the ground unable to balance. Without eyes, but intact, they walked into things, and without ears or a nose they couldn't hunt well at all. They keyed in on sound first, but Burt thought they must be able to smell things from a long way off too. That was why they'd eventually work their way toward people. It was just a guess though, no one knew how this all worked for certain.

  The trip back was faster, not having to pull the bodies in the high sided metal cart, which had nearly the interior space of a hollowed out family car. The wheels were car tires and there were four of them, the body made of welded inch and a quarter steel tube. It was the last thing Burt had made before the oxygen and acetylene had run out. If it broke they were out of luck until either they got an arc-welder going or one of them learned blacksmithing. They'd be careful, Jake decided. They couldn't afford the time off from hauling wood, he didn't think.

  He took time to wash before going in, just scrubbing in a little plastic bucket that people used for that. Then Jake decided to do the whole thing and got his razor and soap, taking his time to get really clean, cold water or not. Yeah, he'd get all nasty with the wood, but handling the dead always made him feel dirty. Plus, the fresh corpses had gotten blood on him when he took their heads off. He changed into his other set of clothes and washed the ones he was wearing before breakfast. Those he hung on the line out back to dry. They'd be stained, but then, what wasn't?

  Breakfast was just oatmeal and bits of deer meat, the last of it from the one Carl had gotten them. They really needed to get some animals if they could. Goats or sheep maybe. You could eat those. Goats would eat anything he'd heard, so maybe they could eat grass or whatever, instead of human food? There were farms around and not all of them had people, so maybe there would be animals there? If they could catch them. Or kill them. Fresh meat would be welcome too. Having their own would be better for winter.

  Of course the end of the world would come and Jake would find himself still not getting laid and thinking about becoming a farmer. It figured really. He glared around the table he sat at, they had a lot of them here, nine for the seventy odd that lived at the house, but he normally sat at this one with Tipper, Dave and Molly. Today he had Molly on one side of him and Carley on the other. Begin degrading tirade in three, two, one...

  Carley started then, almost perfectly, in time with his internal count.

  It was like magic. Jake nearly smiled.

  “I think that one of the women should be in charge of getting the firewood. Too many men are in control here. Two of the cleaning teams, Nate, Burt...”

  Jake turned and gave her a funny look, “Um, Carley, Tipper may like sleeping with women at times, but I think it's a little rough claiming that makes her a man. Don't you?”

  No one would think Vickie a man. If Carley was the hottest woman in the place, Vickie was the second and the margin was close. Plus she had a temper, if she were actually a man in drag no one would mention it. Tipper chuckled at the scene and Dave perked up around a mouthful of oatmeal.

  “Really Carley, what kind of male-centric thinking is that? What, did you think I was in charge of our team? I did put the idea forward, but no takers yet.”

  Seriously.

  He had. The kid wanted to have them scour every house in the city one after the other. It was a good plan, but it would probably lead to them all being dead. That or zombies. Get too tired for too long and they got you. Everyone knew that. Even Dave, which probably accounted for why he never really pushed that hard for the idea. Now if they had about a hundred teams...

  The woman next to him blinked.

  “Oh, but Molly said you were in charge Jake.” The curly headed blond still wore shorts and the skimpy t-shirt. Her legs hadn't been shaved in a long time if ever, but that kind of social nicety had lasted about... What really? Thirty seconds after the first real announcement? No more than a few days. Most people didn't bother shaving anything now. He did, Nate and a few other of the men too, most grew beards. Burt's was long enough to show he'd had it for at least a year. Still, under the hair Carley had nice legs.

  Jake couldn't see them right now though, so he nodded instead of covertly staring.

  Tipper spoke gently, but pointedly.

  “Molly hasn't been paying attention for a while now. She lives in her own world. Don't you Molly?”

  The girl flipped her off, “I pay attention. Enough to know that everyone around here is screwed up beyond saving. I should just leave.”

  Jake turned to Carley, trying to change the subject. It wouldn't bug him if the chubby girl left overly. Anyone could if they wanted. It would be a virtual death sentence for her though. Really, it would probably be kinder to just kill her outright and have done with it. Some people could do it and survive maybe, but this girl needed other people too much. Molly yammered on about leaving at his back.