Cryonic (20 page)

“Give me some of that detergent,” Celeste said. “I'm going to see if it'll wash the stink out of my hair.”

“That's not a bad idea,” I said.

I poured some of the powder into Celeste's outstretched hands, then grabbed the uniforms and my rifle from the back of the Humvee.

“You coming, doc?”

“No, I'm going to stay here and rest for a moment.”

“Suit your stinky self.”

Celeste and I walked down the creek a ways to find some privacy. The small, rust-colored body of water, roughly thirty feet across, snaked through a grove of trees. We came across a stretch where the water was less murky.

“I'm going here,” she said.

“All right, I'll go find the men's locker room.”

The creek careened to the right around a small hill covered in brush. I walked past the hill, set my belongings on the bank, and waded out into the middle of the warm water, which reached my waist. I looked in Celeste's direction to make certain the hill blocked our line of sight. The coast was clear so I slipped off my underwear and returned to the bank. I washed them gently with the soap, wrung them out, and hung them on the bushes to dry.

I dunked the first uniform in the water, sprinkled soap on the areas that looked stained, and rubbed the fabric together as hard as I could. The friction produced a loud scratching sound as it cleaned the soiled fabric. Halfway through the
second uniform, I thought I heard something and stopped scrubbing. I looked around for the source of the sound but heard nothing else. I went back to scrubbing. A moment later, I heard something again, and stopped what I was doing. Silence. Then a chilling scream from the other side of the hill.

“Royce!” Celeste screamed desperately.

With no time to waste, I dropped the uniform and ran up and over the hill. I didn't even realize I was naked, nor did I think to grab my gun. Two zombies in US military uniforms had her cornered in the middle of the creek.

“Hey, hey, you dummies, over here!” I yelled and waved my arms to get their attention, then grabbed a cantaloupe-sized rock at the base of the hill and headed out into the water. They stopped for a moment to look at me but then continued after Celeste, who backpedaled and fell onto her backside in the water. I stormed out into the center of the creek yelling to get their attention, to no avail.

I reached the zombie closest to me before he grabbed Celeste. I held the rock in both hands above my head and smashed it down on the top of his skull. The blow blew open a massive crater in the top of his head. He collapsed into the water. The zombie on the other side of her clutched her shoulders and leaned in to bite her on the face. I held the rock in my right hand, swung it back like a bowling ball, then stepped forward, and unloaded it into the zombie's chin. Teeth flew in all directions, and the zombie fell back into the water. It started to get up. I raised the rock and smashed it down on the zombie's forehead. The creature dropped in the water like a stone.

Celeste sloshed over to me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and collapsed sobbing against my chest. I'd never
seen her so fragile and vulnerable. She was also nude, and I could feel her firm breasts against my ribs. I rubbed her shoulder and ran my other hand through her hair. Blood from the ghouls clouded the water around us.

“There, there . . .” I whispered softly, “everything's all right. They're gone now.”

She cried for a while, then pulled herself together, and asked in a raspy voice, “What happened to your gun?”

“Oh that. It's up on the riverbank. I, um, I heard you scream so I ran right over. I didn't want to leave you alone for another second.”

She lifted her head and looked into me like I'd just melted her heart. She grabbed my hand and slid it down her back. She cupped it on her ass and pushed her pelvis up against me. The whole thing took me by surprise. She felt so warm and soft that I was deeply aroused, pulsating against her body.

“Celeste, I have to—”

She placed her finger against my lips then pulled it away and went in for a kiss. Our lips touched for a brief and intoxicating moment. Then I turned my head gently to the side.

“Just wait, I need you to know something. As far as I know, I still have a wife back in California.” Celeste's expression morphed into hurt and confusion. “If she's still alive, she's probably a little shriveled old lady, but she's my shriveled old lady. I gave a vow, ‘till death do us part.' I want to honor that.”

Celeste didn't say a word. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she looked down at the water. She still wore a wounded expression, but something told me she respected my predicament. I didn't know what else to say. The silence and our nakedness were beginning to feel painfully awkward.

Gunfire exploded in the distance. Then silence, followed by another ear-ringing flurry.

“Dr. Trowbridge,” I said. “Let me get my gun.”

I stomped through the shallow water then stumbled my way up over the sandy hill. I scurried up the bank and grabbed my gun, then returned covered in dirt like a chicken breast dusted with flour. Celeste had put her wet skivvies on and was running with her weapon toward the gunfire. I took off behind her.

There were dead zombies on both sides of the Humvee, all American soldiers, all of them shot in the head. Blood was splattered across the back door. We readied our weapons and walked up to the vehicle. Dr. Trowbridge, covered in blood, lay in his seat. He clutched the base of his neck with both hands. Blood surged between his fingers with every beat of his heart.

“Doc, doc, what do we do? What do we do?” I begged.

“Nothing,” he gasped. “Too late for me. Severed my carotid . . . I'm bleeding out.”

“What happened?” Celeste asked.

“Fell aslee—”

He stopped speaking and stared blankly off into the distance. The blood stopped flowing through his wound.

“He's gone,” I said calmly. Then a flood of emotion rushed over me. “Fucking hell, doc! What are we going to do without you?” I felt like crying. I was naked, tired, and emotionally drained. Another friend had died a horrible death, and the genius behind the cure was no longer there to guide us.

“We have to get out of here,” Celeste said. “We have to keep moving.”

“You're right. We're better off in the city at night than we are staying here. Who knows how many more of them are out there? We'll just get overrun. Let me go get the clothes.”

“OK,” Celeste said. “Hurry back.”

I started toward the creek but then thought better of it. “You know what? Let's just take the Humvee. Safer that way. I can drive right into the water.”

We left the creek and drove back toward the highway. The flame-orange sun was sinking beneath the horizon. The sopping-wet army uniforms we wore were abrasive and cold against the skin, but they preserved our modesty and protected us from lingering thoughts of indiscretion at the center of the creek.

“We have to get Buck,” Celeste said. “He won't be safe here anymore.”

As difficult, and potentially dangerous, as I knew it would be to bring the deranged old man along with us, doing so was a simple act of humanity. After having unceremoniously left Dr. Trowbridge's body lying in the dirt, as we had with Alex before him, we needed to know we were still human.

I parked the Humvee in front of the Charge and Chow. “Keep watch out here. Just holler if you need me. I'll do the same.”

I grabbed my rifle and approached the building. The front door was ajar, held open by a cowboy boot pointing at the sky. A red-faced turkey vulture emerged from the doorway and hopped down the front step as I approached. I waved my gun, and the massive black bird flew over and landed on a rusted out car sitting at the edge of Buck's lot.

I opened the door and saw what had to be Buck, judging by the scraps of bloodied overalls spread around the corpse. The majority of the flesh had been plucked clean from his frame, and the crimson skeleton that remained looked much
smaller than the man. I stepped inside the building and slipped on the blood pooled on the floor. I peeked at each side of the aisles. The place looked empty. I grabbed the box of Twinkies and some rose-scented air freshener.

“See any freaks out here?” I asked, climbing back into the Humvee.

“A couple through the binoculars over toward the highway, but other than that, the coast was clear. Where's Buck?”

“See that boot in the doorway?”

“Where?”

“Over there. The one sticking out the door.”

“Oh, nooo. Poor old man.”

“Ya, it's a real shame. Wish we could've helped him.”

We drove down the dirt road and climbed the embankment back on to the highway. Zombies in military uniforms dotted the lanes. Most wandered west toward Kansas City.

“Looks like they're catching up to us,” Celeste commented.

“I know. I wonder what it is about the road that draws them. Maybe they like walking on pavement.”

“Or maybe their brains know that roads are for traveling.”

“Too bad for them their brains don't know that doorknobs are for turning.” Celeste smiled at the joke.

“Say, how's your uniform smell?” I asked.

“Better, but still not good.” She held her jacket to her nose and sniffed it. “Actually, it's still pretty bad.”

“Here, stick this in your pocket.” I handed her the rose-scented car air freshener. It was shaped like a pine tree. “A lady like you should smell like a rose.”

Celeste tore into the package like it was a Christmas gift. She unbuttoned her front pocket and slid the air freshener inside.

“There,” she said. “Good as new. Now pass me a Twinkie.”

We motored down the highway toward Kansas City. The closer we got to KC, the more we saw American civilians among the infected. The crowds grew with each passing mile. With the Humvee we could drive over and even through the walking dead.

“Man, look at all of them. I bet they're from the city,” I said. “I really hope this doesn't mean it's overrun.”

“Me, too. If it is, we better find another route before the bombing starts.”

We reached the city limits around midnight. Lights illuminated the windowed skyscrapers dotting the distant skyline.

“Look at that! That's a good sign, huh?” I asked.

“Amazing. There have to be people in there. Real live people.”

“I wonder where the army is?”

“Once we find somebody, they can show us the way.”

Three cars sped past us from the other direction. I flashed my headlights at them, but they didn't even slow down.

“They're really moving. Too bad they're headed in the wrong direction,” I said. “Maybe they can tell us what's going on. Should I go after them?”

“I don't think we should. I doubt they'll stop for us.”

I drove further down the highway, weaving through an increasing logjam of wandering ghouls and abandoned vehicles. We pulled up to an ugly scene. A minivan was turned sideways, having crashed into the center divider. The doors were open, and the occupants who had fled were sprawled across the other lanes. A massive zombie mob surrounded them. A thousand or more ghouls—we couldn't see the end of them—clogged the highway, driven to a frenzy by the fresh kill. They were packed in tightly, pressing against and climbing over each other in a quest to tear at the people's flesh.

“Too many cooks in the kitchen,” I said.

“That isn't funny. Those poor people. Why do you have to try and make a joke out of everything?”

“I dunno, look at it! It's just . . . it's surreal. Humor is the ultimate chaser. It makes the nastiness a lot easier to swallow.”

Celeste still wasn't thrilled with my comment, but at least she knew where I was coming from.

“You think we can drive through there?” she asked.

“Ya, I'm pretty sure this bad boy can drive over anything. I'm going to give it some extra gas to make sure.”

“Maybe we should go back and take the side streets?”

“That last exit was four miles ago.” I looked at the fuel gauge, which was pegged on empty. Concrete barriers lined the edge of the highway. Even the Humvee couldn't drive over them. We'd have to go all the way back to avoid the mob in front of us. “I don't think we have enough gas to risk it. We gotta go for it.”

I backed the Humvee up a ways, shifted into drive, and slammed my foot on the gas pedal. The engine roared to life, and we were moving at a good clip by the time we hit the edge of the zombie horde. The sound of their bodies bouncing off the vehicle started as a machine-gun like progression of thuds, but as we traveled further forward, there were so many of them that the sound—and the sensation—was like we'd landed in a puddle of molasses. Blood and body parts coated the windshield so densely that we couldn't see a thing, but we could feel what was happening and it wasn't good. We started slowing down. I pushed the gas pedal harder, but it was already all the way to the floor. Soon, we weren't moving at all, and our wheels were spinning in place.