Fountain of the Dead (16 page)

“I want you to move those barricades and for my people to pass through Hartford without getting shot, fucked up, raped, or molested.” Williams swiped at the sheen of sweat on his head, felt the stubble on the back of his hand. He needed a shave.

“You’re asking for a lot. What do you have for barter?” Williams looked at the man, dressed head to foot in tattered green camouflage. Aside from the rifle he had two pistols, a taser and a bandolier of knives. He was broad shouldered, probably bigger than Crowe. But he guessed not nearly as deadly.

“I could tell Crenshaw what a little bitch you are.” Williams tried to stare the man down; he didn’t budge.

“You got women? I’ll let you through for a woman.”

* * * * *

“He’s coming back.” Sharon watched through the scope as Williams moved the shredders. “He’s clearing the path.” On the bridge several men clambered down the metal superstructure; they climbed over the rails, and moved the barricades. The initial point man stayed put and kept watch. They heard Williams’ footsteps.

“Alright, I’ve got us through,” Williams said and turned down his collar.

“What’s the catch?” Frank asked and eyed him suspiciously.

“They want some water,” Williams said.

“You told them we had water?” Frank asked.

“They guessed, since we’re on a mission. How did the kid get here?” Williams asked.

“How much water?” Frank asked.

“Six bottles. They wanted one of the women. I talked them out of that.”

“Six bottles of water... seems small, doesn’t it? Guarding a bridge, might want ammo, some food or more weapons,” Frank said.

“He only wants enough for his men on the bridge. And while we’re standing here with our thumbs up our asses, we’re losing time.” Williams looked back to the bridge, wondering how long they had to get through. Crenshaw carried a lot of clout. Down in Connecticut he was feared, but didn’t wield the same power he did north.

“Open the Explorer,” Catherine called.

“No. You kid, climb in there and get six bottles.” Micah nodded and crawled in through the open door. “We show them how much water we have and they’ll want all of it, and the fuel.” Micah handed Williams the bottles. “Let me ride shotgun in the Jeep, until the pay off.”

“This doesn’t feel right,” Sam said.

“I told them I work for Crenshaw.”

“But you don’t anymore, right?” Beverly asked and narrowed her eyes. “Tell me right now, you don’t work for him anymore.” Frank dropped his hand near the pistol tucked under his belt. Williams saw the movement and nodded.

“I don’t work for Crenshaw anymore,” he said looking into her eyes. She searched his gaze, looking for any hint of a lie. “But they don’t know that, do they?” Williams met her eyes, returned the glare. She turned away first.

“What else did you agree to?” Catherine asked.

“I might have said we’d clear out Pope Park some on the way by.” The spot man fired a shot in the air. Micah jumped at the noise. Time was running out.

“Micah, Sam, hop in the Explorer. Williams, you have shotgun and point. Try not to kill Pierce before New York, please,” Catherine said rounding the Monte.

“Catherine, what about Micah?  We can’t take him,” Sharon said.

“We’re not turning around. And we’ll discuss it when we hit Danbury. Now get that fuel and the extra water covered up.” Catherine climbed into the Monte and slammed the door. Beverly slipped past Sharon, closing the trunk and getting in. Sharon was last in the car.

“We’re losing minutes,” Williams called as the Jeep rolled forward.

* * * * *

The caravan stopped on the bridge. Williams jumped out and reset the shredders. While he was gone, Micah handed out bottles of water through the window. Williams hopped in the Jeep; Frank had it moving before he was seated. He turned to face the point man as they sped off, pointed to his eyes and then him.

* * * * *

“Where we going?” Pierce asked. He clutched his pack to his chest, his fingers almost white-knuckled. “This sun is going to kill me.” Pierce turned his hands looking for sunburn.

“Burger King,” Frank said.

“For someone who spent so much time in a swamp, you’re a pussy,” Williams said.

“We’re still on 84, we should be long past 84,” Pierce said ignoring Williams.

“We’re still in Hartford nutbag. Deal with it. Frank follow 84 to the park, you won’t miss it. We’ll need to get off on Park Street and go through the center of the park,” Williams said. His patience with Pierce was as thin as Frank’s. Gerry sat next to Pierce and wondered why he was being punished.

* * * * *

Frank turned off 84, the lanes remarkably clear of vehicles and bloated half chewed up bodies. He drove onto Park Street to the intersection of Laurel and Pope Park Drive. Frank turned right into the park and stopped the Jeep dead. The dark shopping center across the road loomed in the rearview mirror. Ten years ago that place would have been perfect to hole up in. Now it had most likely been ransacked and stripped of anything useful, assuming it wasn’t full of squatters. The other two vehicles blocked the view when they pulled up.

The road in front of them was clogged with the dead wandering aimlessly, waiting for the next warm snack to walk or drive by. Williams cursed and spit out the open window. He handed Frank back his pistol and took out his own. Pierce leaned forward to get a better view.

“Everyone be careful. They’re all over the place,” Frank said into the radio. “I need Sharon, Gerry and Tony up here with me.” Sam and Tony pulled up next to Frank. They opened the doors to create a barrier. The two lane road was now blocked, one side by the walking dead, the other side by three vehicles. It was a high noon stand-off, waiting for the chime of a clock for the gunfight to begin.

“This is crazy,” Gerry said looking around. “This is going to eat our ammo.”

“It was the deal,” Williams said. “We don’t clear it, they follow and kill us.”

“It’s not just the road, it’s everything past it, and into the park.” Sharon said getting ready for the fight. She looked through the scope, far as she could. “Place looks clogged with them.”

“Can we get through and not use all our ammo?” Catherine asked. “We made a deal, we have to do this. I’d rather not have all the murder squads hot on our tails.”

“How do we know they aren’t watching? Waiting for us to be low on supplies?” Sharon asked. “They could wait till we’ve done this and then murder the lot of us and take whatever’s left.”

Frank growled and stepped forward.

“We took almost everything from back home. We blow through this ammo, we’re leaving our home defenseless too.” Frank was shouting by the time he finished. Some of the dead turned and staggered towards them. “We didn’t sign on for this. This side trip is bullshit.”

“Then hop in your jeep and go the fuck back, Frank,” Catherine said poking him in the chest. “I made this decision, you are a volunteer.” She stared into his eyes, unwavering and unblinking until he backed down. She took several deep breaths to get her own anger back in check. Frank stalked off to his jeep, rubbed his fingers across the steering wheel and looked at the road leading back to the town.

“Now let’s kill some of these things and get back on the road,” Catherine said. Frank turned, pulling his guns.

“Fill the road with them, make a roadblock out of bodies” Frank said. “We’ll pull off the road and go around them after they’re all down.” Frank ran the numbers through his head; this was going to kill most of their ammo. They’d need a recharge in the supplies. Sharon fired the first shot; the head exploded, showering the others. Then they turned at the noise and lurched forward. The dead pushed forward through the hail of bullets, stumbled over the fallen, slipped in blood and organs that lay splayed across the pavement. Williams fired his last shot and dropped the gun on to the seat. While Frank reloaded, the midsection of a zombie exploded from a shotgun blast. Sam shrugged and took his pistol back out. The abdomen-less dead continued on its path forward sensing only fresh meat. It dragged its insides behind it in a gory trail, crawled over its own guts.

Sharon took it down. They had won the moment. There was a wall of bodies across the road that blocked both lanes of traffic - if there were any. A giant, fucked up, gory hedge; instead of branches and leaves, it was limbs and digits. It was high enough that the dead in back couldn’t get over it and wide enough that it would take the brainless husks some time to get around. Sharon reloaded the rifle. “Everyone back in,” she said. The caravan left the road, to bypass their barricade and get around the ones still standing, leaving tire trails in the moist earth. Catherine sighed looking at the carnage on the road and then reds, oranges and yellows, which clung to the trees. The caravan hit the pavement, went past the pond with the defunct water fountain. Dead bobbed in the water, some strained for purchase, others falling apart, shedding dead flesh from too much time in the pond. Where families and friends used to have picnics and play Frisbee was now little more than a pauper’s field.

“There’s a ball field and playground we need to clean,” Williams said. “That was the deal. Most of the field is empty. There are buildings near the playground; I don’t know about them.” Williams felt the weight of the radio in the inside of his jacket. He checked the roads and wondered where Crowe was. The bastard was sneaky, but there’s no way he could have gotten past the bridge. Frank handed him a full clip and ground his teeth; the waste of ammo was infuriating. Williams tapped it against the side of the Jeep and slapped it into the gun, and fired as they rode past the ball field. Shots rang out from the vehicles behind; Frank glanced into the mirror to see Micah cover his ears and lie down on the seat.

They put the stragglers down and stopped at the first base foul line. The path around the bases was muddy with splotches of brown grass; a small stand of bleachers stood rusted and crumbling. The pitcher’s mound was little more than a ball of mud, the well groomed grasses overgrown. The skeletal array of the playground was in front of the small buildings. Chains that used to hold swings dangled like emptied intestines from rusted poles. Blood smeared the slide from top to bottom.

“We go through that stand of trees near the dugout and that will get us to the front of the building and a better vantage point,” Frank said looking through a rifle scope. They pulled around the trees, and over a small hill. Frank waited for the Monte to clear the trees and stopped.

The playground had a large jungle gym; plastic and rope bridges led from small houses on metal poles. Plastic tube slides with jagged holes had long strips of old clothes hooked on them. The basketball half court was covered with pot holes and all throughout the maze of swings and climbing poles were the dead. They turned towards the cars.

“Can you people just kill these things so we can get out of here?” Pierce said and turned away. He rifled through his bag to read his notes and stopped at the book that he kept hidden away and stroked the spine lovingly.

“They’re all spread out,” Williams said and pointed at the activity buildings. “Look through those doors. They’re inside too.” Through the scratched, hazy Plexiglass, the dead moved around the building, unable to get the doors open. Rusted links of chain were looped through the outside handles held together by an unlocked padlock; the key lay on the ground in front of the doors.

“Someone tried to help,” Frank said.

“Rusty chains aren’t going to help us. How many you think?” Gerry asked.

“A lot.” Frank answered. “We really need an ammo supply or a rod and gun store. Fuck, even a Wal-Mart would work.” Gerry turned to look at him. “Used to be able to get ammo there, 22 through 9mm and shotgun shells.” The other cars pulled up and formed a barrier like before. Catherine came out to scrutinize the situation.

“Can we send the Explorer through? Run down as many as we can?” Gerry asked.

“It will beat the shit out of the SUV and if something happens, that’s the extra fuel and supplies.” Frank said.

“And we don’t have the room in the other vehicles for the excess,” Catherine said. She tied back her hair and leaned against the Jeep. For a moment she thought about taking Frank’s knife and cutting it off. “We start shooting, thin them out and then we’ll send in the Explorer, pop it in 4-wheel drive and grind them into the dirt.”

“We’re going to keep blowing through our ammo at this pace.”

“What other choice do we have, Frank?”

“We can still go back home and leave this crazy shit on the side of the road,” Frank answered pointing at Pierce.

“Not an option. Even if I wanted to I wouldn’t leave him on the road. Not alive anyway.”

“You’re getting pretty savage, Catherine,” Frank said.

“Too much time around you thugs,”  She smiled and winked at Frank.

* * * * *

Sam gave Sharon a boost to the top of the explorer, handed her the rifle, a box of ammo, and a bottle of water. She lay down on the roof and opened the tripod legs on the barrel, took a deep breath, turned the Red Sox cap around on her head and started to fire. With each shot the rage built up. She imagined every shot was the driver who killed Nathan. When the rage piqued, she screamed in anger; the faces of the dead became the faces of those who ran past Micah and left him alone in the streets of Boston.