DEAD: Confrontation (29 page)

“The corpses have the whole place overrun. Her house looks like it got hit pretty hard. A lot of those things are milling about in her yard and can be seen in the windows. We thought we heard something, but there was no way to get close,” the second boy said with a thick Middle Eastern accent.

Juan had no idea which of those countries the kid might come from, but he had seen enough movies to at least recognize that it was certainly from that general area where all the wars happened. He considered what they told him and shot another look at April. This time she just stared back with a blank expression. That meant it was all up to him. He really would like to clean that place out. There was so much there that it was tough to pass up on. And maybe he didn’t need to hit the hospital after all.

What the hell
, he thought,
it can’t hurt to look, right?

***

“So do we just leave him?” Chad asked.

After seeing Brett seemingly taken prisoner, the three of them had made for the foothills and the small town of La Gr
ange. The going was a bit tougher than they had anticipated. A lot of the road was either covered with dirt and sand or just plain washed away.

When they began to notice a few buildings spread out over the area, they slowed and started trying to seek shelter from the storm that was now close enough that they could smell the ele
ctric tang of ozone in the air.

At the top of a small hill that appeared to offer a good view of the surrounding area sat an old white church. After ensuring that it was empty and not holding any surprises, they ducked i
nside. It proved to be just in time. The rain came so hard that they had to almost shout to be heard even though they sat huddled together.

“I think he got himself in over his head,” Scott said. “He started acting all stra
nge when we made this choice. It was like he suddenly felt he was running things.”

“I admit he was acting weird,” Chad agreed. “But he was still one of us. He didn’t just stop. We have been through a lot together. Too much to just abandon him.”

“I think he just wanted you guys to see that he could do stuff, too,” Ronni said.

Scott and Chad exchanged glances. After some raised ey
ebrows and shrugs, Chad turned to his daughter. “What do you mean?”

“Every time something happened, it was one of you two making the decision for everybody. Back at the camp, you were the one who had us all leave after the soldiers abandoned it. It was you two who took us to Yosemite and then when everything bad started
there, Scott was the one who took charge of getting you free, and then you two decided that we should leave that place. Brett just always went where you told him.”

Chad scratched his head. That might account for some of it, but had he really just been ordering Brett around this whole time? They had been friends for years
…much longer than he knew Scott. But when he replayed things in his mind, it did always seem to be him and Scott making the moves.

“That still doesn’t give him the right to act like a dick,” Scott grumbled.

“Maybe not,” Chad said. “But we are still a group. We are all each other have. I say we have to at least try and figure out a way to see if we can get him out of there.”

They sat in silence for a few moments as a particularly loud crack of thunder shook their tiny refuge
, sending dust sprinkling down from the rafters. Another bright flash that seemed to come from right outside lit up the interior of the church, quickly followed by an explosive boom that caused one of the few remaining windows to crack and then fall in a cascade of glass.

Ronni let out a little shriek, and even Chad and Scott jumped. The storm was in full fury now as the rain sounded like it might
be able to hammer its way through the roof. Outside, the water was falling in big droplets that struck the ground so hard that they created a mist that rose about two feet.

“We got in just in time,” Chad said, most of his statement cut off by still another peal of thunder that reverberated through the open church.

Wind and rain poured in through the open windows—even the ones facing away from the storm, such was its wrath. A gust of wind pressurized the building in an instant and blew the front door open. Chad jumped up and rushed to close it. He had to struggle against the wind, and just as he pulled it shut, he caught a glimpse of a few dark figures moving their direction. He hurried back to Scott and Ronni, his weapon drawn along the way letting them know trouble was coming.

“Spread out,” Chad yelled over the storm. “We have this a
ltar and the railing here to help give a buffer. Draw them in and see if we can stack the bodies to give us even more protection.”

They set up, Chad on one side, Scott on one side, and Ronni behind the altar.
The door shook in its frame. Of course, with the storm, it was impossible to tell what the source could be.

When the doors flew open, they all prep
ared themselves for the fight; each subconsciously gripping and re-gripping the handle of their weapon. A handful of dark-cloaked figures stumbled in and sort of poured around the entrance.

One of the figures rose up and tossed back the hood of its cloak. All three expected to see another of the zombies. None of their minds had managed to catch up enough yet to see the
discrepancy in a zombie throwing back a hood. That is why all three staggered back when the zombie spoke.

“You must be Chad.”

***

“
So what is the deal with the mask?” Vix asked.

The figure standing over her cocked his head to the side like he was confused. He seemed to shake himself out of it and thrust his weapon forward once again.

“I said for you to get your hands up,” the man growled.

“Listen, I am sure that you might be able to fool some folks,” she glanced over at Gemma who had her hands thrust to the sky, “but I had a nephew who had the same toy. Nice touch painting it, though. It hides the bright orange tip. But unless you plan to kill me by annoying me with the hideous noise that thing makes…”

Vix climbed to her feet and slapped the “weapon” away. Stepping past the man like he was not even there, she took in the surroundings. The courtyard was large and open with grass that had gotten over knee-high and all but strangled off the flowers that had been carefully planted to border the walkway.

“Hey, you can’t just go walking around here,” the man said, hurrying back around to get in front of Vix.

“Listen, we have been on the road for days. The rain is coming and I would like to get inside before it soaks me. We aren’t staying long, just long enough to avoid this little storm and let those zeds find something new to get interested in, then we will be gone.”

With that, Vix brushed the man aside and continued for the door of the church. Gemma hurried to catch up, giving their masked “captor” a dirty look as she passed.

“Shame on you for pulling a gun on a pair of ladies,” she huffed.

As they reached for the door of the church, the man shoved past and placed himself firmly between them and the door. The toy gun had been replaced by a knife.

“You can’t just go barge in there,” the man insisted.

“You hiding something?” Vix stepped back. Her hands drifted down to the assortment of weapons hanging from her belt.

“You can’t just go barging in to somebody’s home…err…” he seemed to be momentarily tongue-tied.

“You live in the church?” Gemma asked. “I could see hiding in one for a while, but I would never feel comfortable staying in one for too long. It would be like God was always looking over my shoulder. I would be in the confession booth every single time I said a bad word.”

“Look, whoever you are, we just want in out of the rain for a while. We are not staying. But…we are coming in and staying here for a while. You can either get out of the way, or use that thing.” She nodded to the blade.

The man looked down as if he had forgotten he was even holding it and hastily stuffed it back in its pouch at his side. His head dropped and his shoulders slumped. Vix gave an inner sigh of relief. She had not figured him for the cold-blooded killer type. But these days it was getting hard to tell.

“And take that silly mask off,” she added. “You can’t catch the zombie infection by breathing it.”

“No,” the man reached up and pulled the mask away revea
ling a face that was losing the war with acne…and he was perhaps fourteen…maybe, “but the mask has eye protection.”

“Does your mom know you’re here?” Gemma snorted, tr
ying her best to hold back a laugh.

The young man’s face cracked a little around the edges. “She died a few months ago,” he mumbled. “In fact, everybody is gone now but me
.”

Gemma’s face went immediately from a smile to a look of sorrow. “I’m sorry. I just—”

“The stupid cow opens her mouth without thinking more often than not,” Vix interrupted. “Look…” she left that word hanging, inviting him to give his name.

“Harold Wentz, mum” the boy said with a slight bow.

After formal introductions were finished and Vix told him to never call her ‘mum’ again, she returned to the issue at hand as she saw it which was to get inside before this rain came. She was sick of being cold and wet.

“So can we get inside now, Harold?” Vix made for the door. Once again, he stepped in front of her. However, now that she could see his face, she saw the flush.

“I…umm…” the boy stammered and sputtered.

“Do you need a moment to…” Vix paused to consider the words she should use, “…clean up a
bit before inviting in company?”

“Yes please,” Harold
said.

Vix nodded and Harold opened the door enough so he could slip inside. The door shut and Vix turned to look back at the grounds, paying close attention to the area around the gate. It looked like it had been fortified in a matter of speaking. A car was parked up against it on their side of the wall.

“Why does he need to clean up for us to come in?” Gemma asked, the confusion obvious in her voice.

“Could be anything,” Vix said with a tired shrug. “Most likely…” she glanced over her shoulder and dropped her voice to a whisper, “considering his age, I imagine it is porn.”

“Gross!” Gemma squealed and made a face.

Eventually, the door opened. To his credit, Harold had r
emoved his makeshift body armor and looked to have run a comb through his hair. He ushered them in with a bit of a flourish and showed them to one of the pews that was decked out with overstuffed cushions.

The three engaged in small talk for a while. Eventually, Harold asked the question Vix was waiting for.

“So, what brings you here to London?”

“She won’t say,” Gemma spoke before Vix had a chance to open her mouth.

“Actually,” Vix shot a glare at the girl who was by now either oblivious to it, or really good at ignoring them due to their frequency, “I am here to find something that I think is worth the risk.”

“Wow,” Harold sighed, “the only thing I could think of that might be worth risking yourself like that for would be the Arth
urian and Medieval display that was going to be shown at museum before all this zombie nonsense began.”

Vix shot Harold a look of incredulity. The boy stared back for a moment…and then a huge smile bloomed on his pimple-littered face.

“Please take me with you,” Harold begged.

Gemma had heard everything that was said. She looked first
from Vix and then to Harold. The two were grinning like idiots. Once again, she had the feeling that she was missing something.

***

“Tomorrow we are making a run east to the outskirts of Jonesboro,” George sat at a table across from Jody and Danny. “There are some housing projects on the outskirts. We still have a few months before we can get our gardens up and running. We are doing okay, but food is still something that we are concerned about.”

“What are you doing for water?” Jody asked.

“The nearby stream to the west,” George said. We have to haul it in a wagon, but we got a good pump and the six tanks hold four hundred gallons each. It is an all-day evolution, but we have a water tower here that we are using, so fortunately we only have to do that weekly.”

“Any way to run a line from the stream to the town?” Danny asked.

“Over two miles?” George laughed. “Not likely. Hell, we’re just fortunate that we have it as close as it is. Heard reports that some of the cities in the Southwest like Phoenix, Vegas…even LA, the population was dying faster from lack of water than they were zombies.”

Jody had heard some of those stories
. Of course he had also heard tales of power plant meltdowns in the eastern part of the United States, subway flooding in New York and, if rumors could be believed, the reclamation of the city of New Orleans by the ocean. Considering that the media was under a tight choke hold for almost as long as they managed to stay on the air—his unit had actually been stationed at a local television network for a few days until the grid dropped and it no longer mattered—he wondered how anybody really knew anything beyond what they could see with their own eyes.