Dying to Live (19 page)

“Oh, Lanie,” he sobbed and lowered the gun a touch.

A sickeningly wet and gargling noise erupted from Lanie, coming from the very back of her throat as she eyed him. Like an infant just learning to walk, she took one stiff step towards him. When he didn’t move she took another.

“Zack, what are you waiting for? Do it, quickly!” Pete said urgently.

“I can’t!” Zack spluttered. Lanie cocked her head at him and her nose wrinkled as she exposed her teeth. It was a snarl that should never have been able to look so terrifying on such a young and pretty girl.

“You have to do it!” Pete urged him. “Because you love her,” He reminded Zack.

It seemed to help; Zack lifted the gun again and took a step forward to meet Lanie. When the double barrels came to rest in the soft skin under her chin, Zack could watch no more.

“I’m sorry,” He sobbed. The finger he held on the trigger twitched and hesitated but he squeezed and let out the shot. Zack didn’t see the top of her head burst open, or the spray of blood that rained down shortly after it. However, despite his ears ringing from the explosion, he thought that he heard her last intake of breath and the scuffle of pebbles and dirt as she dropped to the ground.

14.

‘Well, I’s Doug Willis. And yes, I saw the news reports where they made out like I was some old crack pot. Doug ain’t no fool, though. No sirree. I knew it, did’n I? That Area 51 place, it was the cause of it all, was’n it? The folks on that there radio did’n say it out and out, but Doug knows it. People think that when you live out in the sticks you’re just some redneck idiot, but ol’ Doug went to school. Yes I did. Studied hard as anyone else before I inherited my old man’s circus. Ran that alright too, nice little earner. O’course that was until they go’n banned the animals. If anyone survives the end of the world I e’spect there’ll be circuses what show off those dead people who’s still alive, won’t be nobody to stop it either. Ol’ Doug’s pissed off about it all either which way, damn apocalypse could’a waited a week or so. Won the god damned lottery, did’n I? Not go’n get my winnings now though, am I? Stuck on this little rat piss, shit smelled ranch my dear ol’ pop left me. Tha’s why I was wanting to go off and find those dang idiots with their broadcast. Doug can show them a thing’a two, show ‘em why they should keep their science-meddling away from the good ‘Merican folk.’

Doug’s ‘ranch’ could scarcely be called a ranch. The small wooden structure that he actually inhabited had seen better days to say the least. It was grotty and ill kept; with no woman to clean and tidy for him it simply didn’t get done. The barns on his land were barely more than collapsing piles of firewood. His land had long since died off and Doug had no interest in farming in the days of cable television and fast food.

Doug sat and watched his cracked TV set, chuntering to himself about the ‘dang idiots’ and ‘poor bastards’ that were interviewed. He’d been doing this for days since the initial outbreak. When the evacuation had seen a checkpoint set up just down the road from his little ranch, in the middle of nowhere, Doug was outraged. He liked it out here, without the outside world poking around his business. When the checkpoint went up he felt it was a great invasion of his privacy. He had hauled his fat ass out of the tattered, grimy armchair and intended to give the first person who would listen a piece of his mind. His long, thinning, grey hair was greasy; his vest had stopped being white a long time ago and was covered in stains that did not bear thinking about. His elasticated brown pants were big enough to cover his vast backside but he let them ride down and sag, exposing greying underpants. With age his face had sagged and great jowls drooped at the sides of it. The skin that had once been muscle now hung down from his arms, it mutated the tattoos that had turned blue and blotchy long ago. None of this bothered Doug in the slightest. With half a cigarette hung smoking from his lip, he had stalked out of his house and stepped right into the cameras and reporters that were in his front yard.

After his interview he’d gone on to yell at all the cars that were waiting to get through, telling them all that they were ‘chicken shit pussies’. He even yelled into a car with a family in it, telling the kids in the back that ‘momma and poppa go’n get you babes killed, running away like spooked rabbits.’ After that he had been escorted home by two police men. When he had been bundled inside, he had headed indignantly into the shabby room that he called his office, to dig out his old CB radio set up. That night he had heard the broadcast. In the following days, when his microwave dinners and cold beers ran out, he decided that was the time to fill up his rusty old pickup truck and go and investigate the base.

As Doug drove closer and closer to town, he was spotting more and more abandoned cars. When he came across one with a great splatter of blood up the bonnet, he chuckled to himself.

“Town folks, can’t even drive right. If Doug sees some mutt in the road, he got sense enough to swerve and not dent up his dang truck.”

The sun was directly above him in the midday sky, and his crappy air vents were only managing small bursts and puffs of cool air through the clogs of dirt and years of nicotine grime. He had the windows rolled down as far as they’d go and kept mopping his sweating brow with an old rag. He hadn’t come across any people yet and when he rolled into town it was deserted.

“Fools all go’n and left,” he muttered, “Just as good, I ain’t stopping to pick up no one.”

He looked at the passenger seat where his old hunting rifle was laid amongst a few boxes of ammunition. A grin spread over his face and he hoped he’d get to use it. The thought had only just crossed his mind when encountered the first sign of life. In the middle of the road, tripping towards his oncoming truck, was a woman. Doug pressed heavily on the horn but she didn’t show any intention of getting out of the way. The blaring noise alerted another man to Doug’s presence. The man ambled over and into the road to join the woman.

Doug pressed the horn a couple more times and got angrier when they still didn’t move. He wore a deep frown and swore as he swung the steering wheel around and pulled up beside the woman. He leaned over the passenger seat to yell out of the window at her.

“You dumb bitch. Got no sense to get out the way when a man’s driving up the road?” He spat. The woman lurched towards the window snapping her teeth. “You a retard, lady? Not right in the head? Not all there?” When he got no response he moved his attention to the man shuffling up beside her. “Oi, you ought’a know better than to let yer woman out if she’s handicapped,” he yelled. The man groaned and snarled in response and Doug couldn’t believe it. “I ain’t fool enough to believe yer both backward. Get out’a the road!” He let out another blast on the horn. This time it drew the attention of three more people, who began making their way towards the commotion from behind an auto repair shop.

“Ah great, there more of ye. Look, yer little nigger pals are heading over too,” Doug goaded. “They go’n come into the road too? Put my truck in reverse and kill some niggers and retards, should I?”

Doug was getting beyond frustrated now. The woman stuck her head into the passenger window and reached out in and attempt to get at him. She was still snapping her jaws at him and growling.

“You crazy bitch. Get yer head out’a my dang vehicle!” Doug reached out, avoiding the woman’s flailing arms, and snatched up his gun. “I’m go’n ask you one more time, lady. Get out’a my truck or I’m go’n blow a hole through that face’a yours,” he told her and pointed the gun towards her face. He looked at her, her eyes were the eyes of a crazy person. She looked like, given the chance, she would claw off his face and this made Doug feel a brief spark of panic.

“You asked fer it,” He told her. But instead of shooting at her, he flipped the gun around and used the butt of it to smack her in the face. Her head lurched backwards out of the window and Doug felt a short lived satisfaction, then she was back at the window. The man had drawn up to the vehicle now too and both proceeded to try and cram themselves into the cab.

“Yer some crazy bastards. I ain’t got no time for this! Get out’a my god damned truck!” Doug balled
and spittle flew from his mouth. This time when they didn’t listen to him he was more than a little scared. He put the truck into drive and jammed his foot onto the accelerator.

When the truck got moving, the man was the first to fall away. The woman had pushed too far into the window for him to reach more than a hand through. He ran along behind the truck, though. The other three chased along with him. The woman hung in there, her legs dragged along on the road and her hands scrabbled around as she tried to pull her body through the window.

“Ah fuck you, lady,” Doug spat. He jerked hard on the steering wheel first left and then right. The woman fell back a little but clutched tirelessly onto the window frame. This time Doug turned the steering wheel and skidded the truck around in a full U-turn. The woman let go and fell off completely. Doug’s eyes gleamed with vengeful satisfaction. He straightened out the vehicle and accelerated again, ploughing straight into the men that were giving chase. They still made no effort to jump out of the way and he hit them head on. The first man’s head cracked off the windscreen and he span off to the side of the road. Doug swore loudly at the mess of blood and cracked glass, and then he felt his vehicle rock as two of the others were crushed under the wheels. The last, a black middle aged looking man, ran straight into the truck, rolled over the windshield, right over the roof and into bed of the truck.

Doug jammed on the breaks. He grabbed up his gun again and without hesitating turned and shot through the back window at the man, who was just finding his feet. It must have hit him because he staggered and toppled over the side of the truck and into the dirt. Doug tossed the gun back onto the passenger seat, spun his truck back around and sped off.

“Fuck!” Doug yelled, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. After a minute, he yelled again. “Shit! What the hell was that?” Doug couldn’t work out what could possibly have made them all lose their minds together?

He sped as fast as his truck would allow through the rest of town, and didn’t stop again regardless of what else he saw. There were others who chased him, but he pretended not to see. After a while he tried to distract himself by turning on his radio. None of the stations worked, but on the other frequency he picked up the same message he had heard back home. As he flicked through, he found another person broadcasting.

“It is the end times! People, I urge you to find God. Pray for Jesus Christ to save your soul. Zechariah 14:12 reads: ‘and this shall be the plague with which the lord will strike all the peoples that wage war against Jerusalem: their flesh will rot while they are standing on their feet, their eyes will rot in their sockets, and their tongues will rot in their mouths.’ We have already witnessed the dead coming back to life as the bible prophesized! These are the living dead and this is the curse that is sent to cleanse the world of sinners. This is our punishment!’

Doug’s mind boggled. He had never been particularly religious, and after his second divorce he had abandoned any pretence that he was. He picked the radio’s mouth piece up from its cradle.

“Hey, anyone hear me?” Doug spoke into it. The response was quick.

“Loud and clear. Are you a man of God?” It was the same voice that had quoted Zechariah.

“No, and I ain’t chatting so that you can try and convert me,” Doug answered. “I just wanna know what you know. I just had a mob of crazy S-O-B’s attack my truck. Did’n speak, or get out of the damn road, did’n flinch when I ran ‘em down neither. What is this? And spare me the whole bible, chapter line and verse.”

This response was a little slower in coming back to him.

“Sir, they were already dead. God has sent demons to plague us. The people that they attack... they die, and then resurrect as demons themselves. They eat each other. It is the most blasphemous insult to life and the body of Christ. Isaiah 26:19-20 ‘Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise. You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy! For your dew is a dew of light. And the earth will give birth to the dead. Come, my people, enter your chambers, and shut your doors behind you; hide yourselves for a little while until the fury has passed by.’”

Doug rolled his eyes. “I said without the line and verse. This ain’t yer God’s doing. That other radio message, it’s coming from the middle of the Nevada desert, right where that big ol’ military base is. If you can’t work out that the dang government started this whole thing, then yer as dumb as yer god damned walking dead.”

When Doug had said his piece he put down the mouthpiece and switched off the radio, before another response could find its way back to him.

When he drew his eyes away from the radio and back up to the road, it was too late. He hadn’t seen it at first through the blood and broken glass, but the full width of the road ahead was blocked. He drove right into the scene of an accident. The hood of a red car was wrapped around a fallen telegraph pole. The pole dinted into the top of a crashed lorry, which sprawled across the rest of the road. Doug hit the breaks in his truck, but he was going much too fast to stop in time. He swung on the steering wheel but the truck turned too slowly. The driver’s side of his truck slammed into the side of the lorry. Doug didn’t believe in seatbelts, and as a consequence his whole body leap sideways. His neck snapped violently and his head slammed through the open window and collided with the lorry, before bouncing back as the truck lurched away again.

When the scene jolted to a standstill, blood was trickling from between Doug’s lips and his head lolled to the side. More blood was flowing from a gash in his forehead that exposed the bone underneath and dented his head grotesquely. Doug was dead on impact. But that didn’t stop him from being devoured by the gleeful demons that caught up with his wrecked truck.