Floodwater Zombies (30 page)

Rory turned to him, keeping his gun on Rob. “How bad is it?”

“Fucking
bad
!” he cried, unable to tear his horrified gaze from his bloody hand.

Rory turned back to Rob, his chest rising and falling faster and faster. “Fuck!”

“Let me see, Woods,” Kourtney said, coming over to him.

“Get back!” he screamed, trying to scoot further into the wall.

Alex poked his head up over his booth, blond hair sticking out in all directions, and stared at them with ample eyes.

“Get me a towel, Dad!” Kourtney yelled.

“Get away from me!” Woody cried, pushing past her and sliding out of the booth.

Rachel leaned forward and grabbed him. “Woody!”

He yanked his arm away and stomped over to the darkened jukebox, applying pressure to his wound with his right hand and grimacing with each step he took.

“I thought he was dead!” Mick said.

Doc followed Mick’s baffled gaze to Rob’s crumpled body. Hooper knelt down and picked up Rob’s arm, squinting at the white bone poking through the mangled wrist. “The water brought him back,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Deep creases lined Mick’s brow. His hands went to his hips.

Hooper dropped Rob’s limp arm and watched a forearm tattoo of a skull slowly disappear beneath the water. “He wiggled free,” Hooper said, getting to his feet and turning to Woody.

“Don’t come anywhere near me!” Woody screamed, backing into the front door. Lightning crackled outside, briefly turning Woody into a black shadow. “I’m infected!”

“Woody!” Rory said, stuffing his big gun in its holster. “Just take it easy!”

Woody held up a bloodstained hand. “Stop!” he said, spitting blood. “Just stop,” he said, lowering his voice. He stared at the frightened eyes staring back at him, his racing heart making his chest bleed even more. He glanced to Powder Blue and the other stiffs slogging across the sloppy lot outside and shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do now but get hurt,” he whispered. “I’m one of them now.”

Kourtney took a step towards him, a white bar towel in her hand.
“No-you-are-not!”

“Please!” he shouted, pressing himself against the glass door. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the snot flowing from his nose. “What’re you going to do? Save me with a goddamn bar towel?” He laughed and spit more blood into the rising water. “I don’t want to hurt you!” His eyes bounced from person to person. Lightning flashed again and made their glassy eyes sparkle. He swallowed hard and took a labored breath, the color already draining from his tanned face. “You have to kill me.”

Rory’s frown deepened. “Woody, come on, man!”

“Rory, you come on, man! You saw what happened to that diver and Rob. It’s over for me and I refuse to turn into one of those fucking things!” He paused to clear his throat and take a deep breath which he had to work at. “We don’t have much time and if you don’t shoot me…I’m going to hurt you,” he said gravely.

Alex ducked back down behind the booth and quietly pulled the BB gun from its holster.

The group of survivors cast sideways looks at each other while heavy rain pattered against the roof. No one seemed to know what to say or do next. Woody hunched his bony shoulders and began coughing up blood.

Rory spun in the water, squeezing his head with both hands. “Shit!”

Kourtney nonchalantly backed away and ushered Alex from his booth.

“Woody, for Christ’s sake, we can’t shoot you,” Doc groaned, waving a hand through the air. “No way in hell!”

“You have to!”

“Give me a gun and I’ll do it!”

Rory glared at Mick. “Nobody’s shooting anyone! We’ll figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out!” Woody yelled, spitting blood droplets. “Listen,” he panted, trying to lower his voice and pulse. “There’s no time to figure anything out. I’m screwed and you know it.”

“Maybe it won’t happen,” Hooper said, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. “Maybe you’re immune.”

“Come on, Hoop! This isn’t
Contagion
and I’m not Matt Damon. I can already feel it happening,” Woody said thickly, his eyes already sinking further into his skull. “And if I shoot myself, I’ll go to Hell…so you have to do it.”

They stared at his solemn expression with their mouths hanging open. Silence swarmed the bar like sinister
Dementors
infesting the darkness.

“Please,” he moaned weakly. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and ran down his chin. “It hurts.” He winced in pain and dry heaved.

“Damn!” Rory exclaimed, turning his back to Woody and running both hands through his hair. Rachel returned his helpless stare with her hands covering her mouth. He shook his head and spun back around, glaring at the blood running out of his best friend’s chest. “Shit!” he said, realizing that cursing was his only real solution.

“I know,” Woody said softly, his eyelids beginning to droop. “But
it’s
okay, man. It’s no one’s fault.”

“It’s someone’s fault!” Rory cried, kicking his shoe through the pooling water and splashing the
Golden Tee
.

Woody bent over and clutched his stomach with both hands just before throwing up a black liquid that smelled like spoiled chicken.

Kourtney pulled Alex tighter against her side and backed closer to the restrooms, watching Woody with eyes that were just as big as her son’s.

“He’s gonna kill us,” Alex whispered, unable to tear his frozen gaze from Woody.

“No,” Kourtney said, blinking tears down her shiny face. “We’re going to be just fine,” she lied.

Hooper cringed when the smell hit him. He unleashed his weapon and pointed it at the water covering the floor, his chest pounding inside his black t-shirt.

“No!” Rory yelled, his hand going to his gun. “We don’t have to do that!”

Hooper held up his free hand to Rory without taking his eyes off Woody. “Just relax, Rory!”

Woody’s pale face seemed to glow in the darkness. He glanced at Hooper’s gun and nodded. “Do it. Please.”

Hooper shifted in his stance and traded a quick glance with Rory.

“Don’t do it!” Rory begged.

Woody vomited again and inhaled a long, wheezing breath of smelly air. Hooper raised the gun and pointed it at him.

Rory drew his gun and pointed it at Hooper. “Fucking drop it, Hooper!”

Woody straightened back up and wiped his mouth with a bloody hand, smearing a crimson stain across his pallid cheek. “Rory!” he barked, making himself cough. “What’re you doing? He’s a cop!”

“I don’t care! No one is shooting anyone!”

“Rory stop!” Rachel cried.

“No!” Rory countered, his mind racing to find a reasonable argument to defend his protest.

“You’ll have to shoot me then, Rory,” Hooper said turning back to Woody. The gun shook in his right hand. His index finger found the trigger and coiled around it like a thick python. He took a deep breath and held it. “I’m sorry, Woods. You didn’t deserve this.”

Woody snorted, shooting blood out his nostrils. “No one did,” he whispered, not bothering to wipe his face. He turned to Rory with watery eyes. “Please stop.”

Rory kept his gun on Hooper, and blinked a tear down his face.

“Rory!”
Woody pleaded.

Rory glanced at his friend and released a dejected sigh before lowering his weapon. “This is bullshit. Maybe you won’t…”

Woody held up a bloodstained hand. “I don’t have much time.” He stopped to take some heavy breaths before continuing. “Thank you for being the best friend a guy could ever ask for. I know you didn’t want to come back but I was so glad you did. You were always there for me, even now, and I can’t tell you how much that means
to
...” His eyes tightened as a sharp pain gripped him.

Another tear slid down Rory’s cheek. He could only shake his head and turn to the others for help, but found only glum faces in response. His wide eyes returned to Woody and blinked another tear down his face “I’m so sorry, Wood,” he quivered, giving up on finding a rational resolution to their dilemma. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Woody’s body constricted with another spasm. When the pain passed, he relaxed and took short breaths in quick successions. “Make sure they use the picture of me at Yellowstone at my funeral. I had a good hair day that day,” he smiled, coughing into his hand. He smeared the blood across his torn shirt, the color continuing to drain from his shivering body.

Rory wiped his face with the back of his hand and nodded, unable to form a complete sentence, unable to think and breathe at the same time, let alone speak.

A bloody grin slipped across Woody’s face. He snorted, shooting more blood out his flared nostrils. “Shit, I just remembered that my last post on Facebook was a picture of hot chicks playing volleyball.” He coughed a few times and turned to Rory. “You have to delete that, dude. My mom will
shit
if she sees what I wrote. I can’t have that be my last post.”

Rory stood with a nonplussed look on his face, speechless and chilled to the bone.

Woody’s face tightened as another flash of pain rippled through his body. He waited for it to pass before taking another breath. “My password’s Pantyhunter217.”

Rachel sniffled loudly. Tears slipped through the ghostly fingers covering her face and splashed into the water below. “This isn’t funny, Woody!”

He looked over to her, his face stiffening. “Listen to me,
Rachel,
you are going to get out of this. Stay tough and help this clown get
outta
here alive.” He nodded towards Rory.

She shook her head. “
We
are going to get out of this,” she sniveled. “All of us.”

“It’s too late for that.” Woody’s face contorted as another wave of pain seized him. He turned to the Sheriff and gritted his teeth. “You better hurry.”

Hooper tightened his sweaty grip on the gun and took a deep breath. Woody’s face twisted in the faint light slipping through the glass door and window. Hooper shifted in his stance and wiped away a tear with his shoulder. He took another deep breath and held it, trying to steady the gun in his shaky hand. He stared down the barrel at Woody’s ashen face and traded a quick glance with Rory. Slowly, Hooper’s index finger began squeezing the trigger. He released the breath and dropped the gun to his side, catching a worried glance from Kourtney.

“C’mon man!” Woody pleaded, spitting a front tooth into the water with a dreadful plop. “Hurry you, fuckers!” he cried, stomping a foot in the water and grunting loudly. “Don’t you get what’s going to happen?”