Euphoria-Z (35 page)

Jeff had built a wind turbine hooked to a lot of car batteries. The batteries held a charge and allowed him to run his computer. He was working on many projects and had several tables covered with boxes and computers, but most recently he had finished a radio-controlled car with a boosted antenna. He could drive it very far from the structure and was working on mounting a camera to it so they could use it to scout. He’d used the car a couple of times already, once to lead a zombie away from a guy who was walking across the lot.

The elevator was the thing the others understood and found the most useful. The elevator car was a ten-by-ten wooden platform with four cables attached to it, one on each corner. These cables ran straight up about eight feet and attached to a frame the size of the platform. This held the platform flat and the cables vertical. Presently, the platform spun in the air, but that was easy to work with, and they had ideas to fix that too.

They were, bit by bit, building a house and a home. The work served to keep them positive and productive, and the labor made sleep come easy. Except to Ron, who found that, even when he was exhausted to the bone, sleep was fitful and scarce. The bikers were still out there, somewhere, and he couldn’t rest easy knowing that. Even though the bottom level was sixteen feet off the ground, the garage was far from secure. The adults each took a two-hour shift, walking about the level and keeping watch. Sal and Jeff laid out a warning system of wires—thin and black and all but invisible—that were stretched tight and hung with noisemakers such as chimes and bells taken from the home store.

Ron decided to go in search of the bikers and asked Sal to join him. He wanted to know where they were, or at least make sure they weren’t in the area. They left at dawn.

§

They cruised slowly down the wide and once well-manicured streets. Neither of them spoke. Ron remembered disliking how thick the traffic was in San Jose, how many people there were, and now he missed them. They had been replaced by trash, abandoned vehicles, and corpses. Sal interrupted his thoughts.

“Did you see it?”

“What?” Ron looked around.

“The car back there. There was a woman in it.”

“Well, go back.”

“I’m trying.” Sal was turning the van around. When he got back to the spot where he’d seen the car, it was gone.

“Too bad we missed her. She looked like she was alone. Should we try and find her?”

“Yeah.” They looked around the area but couldn’t find her.

§

Sally looked bad. She was pale and nonresponsive. There was something wrong with her in addition to withdrawal, and Wendy had no clue what it could be or what she should do for her.

Wendy had trouble finding a safe place for them to rest. Every time she stopped, the dead showed up. Twice already she had tried to take Sally inside a building and had close calls when the dead arrived. Once they’d arrived when she was inside a building and surrounded the car. It took her forever to get them away so she could retrieve Sally. Now a van had driven by! It looked like it could be that psycho Banjo looking for her. She had to make a quick getaway and then park the car behind a Dumpster and hope she wasn’t found. She was too scared to move and waited to leave until it was dark. Sally was dying, from the looks of her.

§

Sal and Ron cruised the streets of San Jose slowly and carefully, avoiding the dead when they could. When they entered a building, they pulled up as close as possible to the entrance. The dead had a way of getting to you. Sometimes they would crawl under or over the vehicle, or they might already be in the building just waiting to be rousted. The dead could stand perfectly still, not moving for a few seconds after something triggered them. You could walk yourself into a dead end and when you turned to leave, be blocked by corpses.

They went through a few stores and found a lot of supplies. They quickly filled the van to capacity with needed staples of all kinds. But their focus was still on locating the bikers. At first, Ron was hoping to find them just to keep an eye on them. He was hoping to avoid a confrontation, but more and more he felt that taking them out might be the only way they would ever be safe.

Ironically, as they searched the city for the bikers, the bikers were headed toward the parking garage. Among the assorted weapons they carried was a very long coil of rope, one end fashioned into a hangman’s noose.

38.

Banjo pulled the pickup into the Costco lot. The dead were thick around the building. He blew the horn several times to let Jeeter know he was there and to lure the dead away from the door. He drove slowly away, and it took him nearly thirty minutes to get rid of the dead. Finally he was able to loop back and pull right up to the door. Jeeter was there, holding it open. He saw the two Wild Savages, Jack and Acid, and looked at Banjo but didn’t move out of the doorway.

Banjo stepped up to him. “Hey, Jeet, meet Jack and Acid.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Jeeter nodded but didn’t step aside.

“Everything cool, Jeeter? Sorry I didn’t run it by you first, but I was out and these guys…”

Jeeter waved him down. “Nah, glad you’re here.” He turned and walked into the store. Acid and Jack followed Banjo into the darkness.

The stink of rotting fruit, vegetables, and meat had grown stronger since Banjo left. Soon the stuff in the long freezers on the other side of the store would turn. The power had been off for days. The hundreds of gallons of milk and other dairy products and the baked goods were already attracting flies, and soon they would be a problem. Then the maggots would hatch. If Banjo didn’t do something soon, they would lose this place and the food that kept for years. So far, he couldn’t think of a solution that didn’t involve a huge amount of effort. But his brain was churning, and he was sure he’d soon find a solution.

Jeeter led all the men to the rear of the store, where they each grabbed a bottle of their choice from giant stacks of alcoholic beverages. These were some of the goods that could last forever and were worth saving. There were four-foot-high, ten-foot-wide, and forty-foot-long stacks of liquor bottles. A king’s ransom, and more valuable than gold in this new world.

They walked to the center of the giant warehouse where there were chairs, a few sofas, mattresses, and a fire pit. They all got comfortable. Jack spoke first.

“Hey, Jeeter, you cool with this, man?” He leaned forward, eager to get serious business out of the way.

Jeeter seemed distracted, out of it. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, man, I’ve been really messed up. No more world, no more gangs, no more nothing.”

“There are only four of us left, and we officially disbanded as a gesture. The cuts are for our own personal memories. They hold no claim. That cool?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all cool.” Jeeter seemed to come into focus, back from wherever he was. “Yeah, Banjo, you all cool with this?”

“Yeah sure. These guys have been true so far. I say, just for the sake of comfort, we disband the Angels and get down to some easy living.” Banjo watched Jeeter. If he were going to lose it, it would be right now.

“OK then. The vote to disband is on the table? I say yea.”

“Yea.” Banjo nodded.

“OK, there’s a majority. We are officially disbanded.” Jeeter bro-hugged the two men.

Henry lay perfectly still on the couch, thinking with bemusement,
Hey I didn’t get a vote
. It sounded to him like they planned to do nothing but party.

Banjo went and got the girls, three of them anyway, as two had overdosed and died in the cage. The bikers drank, partied, and eventually fell asleep. Jack and Banjo were awake last, but even they succumbed to sex, junk food, and lots of hard liquor.

Henry got up a time or two and went to the bathroom, ate, took a bottle to pretend he was drinking, and checked in on Ralph. Ralph was never in the office initially, but he always showed up shortly after Henry. Ralph spent a lot of time comfortably walking around the warehouse. The bikers were so high, noisy, and sedentary that he was never afraid of getting caught.

Henry found he could sit in a chair and, as long as he stared into nothingness, was left alone. He concentrated on not looking alert or too focused on anything. He could close his eyes and just relax. He got used to it and drifted off to sleep.

§

A pain woke Henry. He was kicked in the groin, but fortunately it wasn’t a dead-on shot to his scrotum. He woke with Banjo trying to pull him from the floor. There was a pounding on the door, and Jeeter and the Savages were already standing. They approached the door as one.

When they got to the door, Banjo made sure they were ready and opened it quickly. It was Muscle and Weed. Weed was in front. Muscle filled the space behind him. Muscle turned and clubbed two zombies with a large wrench.

“What’s this?” Banjo looked suspicious. He backed off so his back was to no one.

“Well.” Weed held his hands up. “I could lie and tell you some tale about why we’re here, but we followed behind. We hung back, wanted to make sure you were legit. The brothers knew nothing of it.”

Muscle stood behind him, arms folded over his thick belly. “True.” He turned on occasion to check on the progress of the slow-walking zombies.

Banjo looked at Jack. Jack spoke up. “I knew nothing. ’Sides, you invited all of us, so what’s it matter if they show up a little late?”

“Yeah, suppose it’s OK.” Banjo backed off. “Come on in, fellas.” They all hugged, and with that their trust was cemented and all past wrongs forgiven. The party grew.

Now, with three dancers and seven bikers, things were getting fun. Everyone was in good spirits, telling stories, passing apologies and explanations for the past feuding, and dishing out harsh insults and jibes they all enjoyed. Acid rolled his Indian over, and there was much admiration.

“We need more pussy!” It was Muscle. “How do we go about finding it?”

Banjo was drunk, but not too far gone. He was waiting for the right time to go looking for Coon and Company, and he was tired of waiting.

“I know where there might be some, but I don’t think it’s likely. And I do have reason for checking the place out.”

Jack said, “Oh yeah, the spook.” He told his two newly arrived brothers the tale. Even Weed, as mellow as he was, was still a biker. He was pissed and ready to swoop in with his brothers and lay out some justice.

Banjo told him his suspicions about the parking structure. They all agreed to go over there that night, all quiet-like, and get up in their shit. Among them were knives, chains, and guns—all the tools they needed to do the job. Muscle had a long-barreled silver .357 Magnum he was particularly fond of and carried in a holster on his hip. It was loaded with hollow-point ammo, bullets designed to break apart upon impact and do more damage than a regular bullet. The gun was intimidating to see, scary to hear, and brutally destructive when fired. It was a cannon that belched forth a ball of fire that lit up the night. Banjo had a noose he’d fashioned from a long piece of rope. He carried it wrapped around his waist and was just itching to use it.

The plan was to park nearby, make their way on foot to the rear of the structure, and surprise them in the dark. They didn’t know that the ramps and stairs had been removed, but these were determined men bent on revenge. Nothing so trivial as fifteen or so feet was going to stop them.

They pulled Henry/Fats to his feet. Henry was panicked. They were taking him to kill people, and he didn’t ride a motorcycle either.

Outside, they piled into a large pickup, a minor relief to Henry. He was helped into the back of the truck and sat in the middle on the floor. Weed drove, and Jeeter was the passenger. Henry, Banjo, Muscle, Jack, and Acid were in the bed. They drove fast through the dark and from the feel of it, hit several things. Henry had no idea what he was going to do. Not just in the immediate future, but long-term. He had no one and nothing, and his body was ravished by years of abuse and neglect. He could feel many problems, too many to dwell on, that scared him. He didn’t think he would have lasted another six months, even if there were functioning hospitals in the world.

§

Ralph waited in the dark behind a giant stack of cereal boxes until the door shut. He watched to be sure all the bikers had left, worried about Henry when he saw that he was going with them. He listened at the door for the sound of the engine to fade away.

He rushed over to the caged girls and found the cage locked. One conscious girl pointed Ralph to the keys behind him. He opened the door and she came out alone. Two dancers were unconscious, and two were dead. The dead girls were starting to smell, their evacuated bowels and bladders the main culprits.

Ralph managed to rouse the two girls. He helped them to the bathroom, where they could clean up and put on clothing he retrieved for them. Their outfits were composed of gray and black sweats, cheap running shoes, and hoodies. They seemed grateful for them. Ralph gave them all a juice box and some crackers to nibble on. He wanted to give them over-the-counter medications he thought might help them. Later, if he could break into the pharmacy, he could give them more effective medicines.

He debated whether they should leave. He didn’t want to give up the bounty of the Costco. The shitbag bikers would probably end up burning it all down, and it had to be preserved for any survivors that might need it. But he and the girls weren’t safe in the place. They risked discovery. Ralph saw how the bikers treated women, how the two dead girls weren’t moved but just left there to rot. In any case, they weren’t ready to go running into the night. The girls needed to rest and heal up as best they could. He wanted to wait at least long enough for the meds to take effect. And he wanted to wait for Henry. His hope was that Henry could slip away from the bikers and they could all leave together.