Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory (21 page)

They enter an open area--a parking lot ahead
of a strip mall. Instead of cars resting between the yellow lines,
there are trailers aligned in an orderly fashion. The Gunship, as
Vida has learned the bus is nicknamed, breaks off from formation
and cruises around the sleepy handmade town. Vida notices only a
few lights within the trailers are on. Outside, folks sit in
folding lawn chairs talking over coffee they drink around fire
pits. It’s been a long while since she’s seen so many people. The
thought of Rubicon during the day, once the citizens are all awake,
frightens her a little.

“You’ll get a full tour tomorrow,” Abby tells
her. “Tonight, you’ll be staying in Quarantine Alley. Not that we
think you guys are contagious or anything. If you had been bitten,
you would have turned during the trip. It’s just until we can
assign you housing, find you all jobs to do.”

“Jobs?”

“Everyone works, everyone eats,” he says with
a shrug. “There’s all sorts of things to do: farming, soldiering,
helping with the daycare. We’ll find a spot that suits you.”

Quarantine Alley is exactly as it sounds--a
space between two buildings cordoned off by chain link. Three small
mobile homes rest along the wall of a supermarket within the dead
end alcove.

“Welcome to Ruby,” the driver of the bus, who
has been introduced as Lady Luck, says, after she brings them to a
halt and opens the door.

Mike and Jen stir for the first time since
dozing off, and Big Mike carries their son off the bus.

Abby opens the alley for them. “Choose
whichever home you like. Each has all the essentials as far as
toiletries. There’s fruit and other snacks inside. Rest up.
Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

Gabe awakens to an unusual smell. Daylight
spills in as he rises. Last night he doubted he’d ever see another
sunrise. He tracks the smell to the hall and finds Brass no longer
there, and his large bag of supplies is on the first floor now by
the door. The moaning of the trapped dead is gone, replaced by a
crackling and the smell of frying bacon.

“Hello?” he calls down. “Brass?”

“Morning, sunshine.” The man in question
appears at the landing. Over his armor he wears a red and white
checkered apron with frills around the edges. “We’re having bacon
and eggs. Shake a leg before it gets cold.”

He disappears back to the kitchen, leaving
Gabe at a loss as to how to get down and join him.

“How?”

“Well, when a chicken and a pig love each
other very much--”

“How do I get down?”

“Rope ladder.”

After a heart stopping trip down the swinging
ladder, Gabriel is hesitant to move. But when no hidden threats are
revealed, he walks into the kitchen.

“How are you this morning, sir?” he asks
Brass.

“Living life, being awesome,” he responds
unenthusiastically, despite the boastful proclamation. He slides a
pair of eggs onto a plate for Gabe. Brass bites his bottom lip
while pondering something that troubles him.

They sit and eat in silence. Gabe is tempted
to ask about the dead from last night and how they were dispatched,
but figures he shouldn’t while he’s eating. If he had asked, Brass
would have told him how most of the wandering corpses had lost
interest in the night and ventured off, back to their migration. He
would also have told him how he dropped down the ladder and
proceeded to where the ghouls were stranded and bashed in their
heads using a hammer and a pair of brass knuckles. The things
clawed at him fruitlessly, unable to get to the flesh they craved
under his protective armor. Once victorious and covered in gore,
Brass dragged the limp bodies outside where he contended with a few
stragglers in the same fashion.

“After we eat, I’ll be pushing off,” Brass
says. “If you want, you can tag along and see that your people are
all right.”

“I’d like that,” Gabe says. “You aren’t going
to try and convince me to stay in Rubicon, are you?”

“I hope I don’t need to. Believe me, I know
what you were planning after you sent the girl away. Telling her
maybe she could come back to check on you, giving away your food
supply. You seem smart. I’d hate to see you make such a dumb
decision.” Brass drops his fork onto his plate and wipes his mouth.
“As far as the world going back, there is no going back. It was
shit before. It’s shit now.”

“That’s pretty bleak.”

“Exactly. That’s the new order of things. The
reason you were thinking about clocking out. Finish up. It’s a long
way to Ruby.”

The aftermath of last night’s rescue is a
grisly scene. Countless corpses lie strewn all over the property,
left to rot. Gabe stands by Brass’s car waiting for him, watching
the unusual hero walk among the dead with his eyes cast to the
ground. Every so often he bends down and picks up small
objects.

“I’m ready when you are,” Gabe calls. The
unsettling sight of his home polluted by so much death makes
leaving it much easier.

Brass’s late model Riviera rumbles through
town. A few ghouls walk aimlessly since there’s nothing to chase.
The sight of the black car quickens their pace to a frantic limp
that proves too slow.

“I grew up here,” Gabe says sadly. His
hometown feels less like a home now. “I met my late wife on a sales
trip to the Midwest. We married and made a life together up there.
We always vowed we’d retire down here, but she passed before she
could see it happen. I have a son who is out there somewhere. I
imagine he’s safe. Howard and his wife got picked up by the
military. They’re on a base.”

Brass doesn’t respond to that, but just
shifts in the driver’s seat. His passenger wonders why the change
in him. Last night it was as if one couldn’t shut him up if they
tried, yet today he’s laconic and sullen. Gabe attempts to get the
man talking. “So, what did you do before the plague?”

“Same as now,” Brass says with a shrug.
“Fought like hell to survive and provide. The dead, creditors, the
IRS--it’s all the same. Things trying to take what’s yours. At
least I can kill the zombies.”

On the highway, Brass increases their speed
to double the legal limit by stepping on a special block attached
to his accelerator that enables him to reach it. The body of the
old Riv rattles and shakes, but it doesn’t seem to disturb the
driver. From the corner of his eye, Gabe sees the man relax. Brass
almost melt into his seat the more miles he puts behind him.

“About last night,” Gabe says. “What happened
between us…”

“Hey, I was lonely, you were lonely.” Brass
gives a wink. “I just wish I could quit you.”

Gabe dismisses the joke, unsure if he’s happy
to see the man’s alternate persona returning. “I just wanted to
apologize again for--”

“I wasn’t upset. I was just messing with
you.”

“You said last night that you were following
a migration. That’s how you found us?”

“Yeah, our outposts reported clusters too big
to pass up. The groups were heading south, joining to form what
arrived on your doorstep. We hit big formations for the practice,
and in case the dead lead us to survivors or supplies. If you want
to find honey, you have to follow the bees.”

Brass points out a rundown, two story shack.
Weathered boards are visible where the white paint has chipped
away. Gabe notices fire damage all the way from the ground to the
rafters.

“See that house?” Brass says. “That’s one of
our outposts. Our farthest to the south.”

At the speed they are traveling, the house is
well behind them before Gabe can respond, “It looks condemned.”

“It looked fine when we found it. We boarded
her up with old lumber and made it impossible to enter through the
first floor. The charring on the side was done by blowtorches to
make it look less inviting. One of the worst threats out there are
other people. Small bands of savages that prey on the weak.”

“I’ve encountered such men,” Gabe tells him.
He imagines no one would seek refuge in a place so decrepit. From
what he saw it looks like a haunted house. “I just thank God you
found us.”

“Don’t thank God. Thank the spotters that
tracked the swarm to your property,” Brass says. “In Ruby, we
believe in all the old inalienable rights. You have the right to
bear arms and to assembly. If one is so inclined, they can exercise
their right to free press. We have complete freedom of religion and
speech, as long as the two don’t conflict with a person’s right not
to hear that shit. Reciting the old ‘God has a plan’ line around
the wrong person is a good way to cause a problem. Some folks have
lost everyone they’ve ever known and loved.”

Gabe can understand the need for caution
around such a sore subject. He has never been one to cite that
particular cliché, but he does believe in a higher power. One thing
strikes him as odd in Brass’s rundown of the rights they enjoy in
Rubicon. He’s talking like Gabe has decided to join already.

“I won’t be there long enough to offend
anybody.”

“Yeah, I forgot.” Brass says with a smile, as
if he has a secret. “Sorry about what I said. I’ve never been the
type of guy to tell a kid Santa ain’t real. Organized religion has
just never made much sense to me, even before the zombies appeared.
It’s always seemed like salad dressing.”

“I don’t follow.”

“That sounded weird, didn’t it? What’s your
favorite salad dressing?”

Gabe is uncertain where Brass is going with
this, but hesitantly plays along. “Thousand Island.”

“Undoubtedly, that is because it’s what your
parents put on your greens when you were a little boy. Sure, you
may have tried other flavors, you may have even liked them, but
Thousand Island is what you gravitate to when you can’t decide, and
it’s what you always keep on hand.”

He’s absolutely right. Gabe has been keeping
it in his fridge all his life.

“Religion is the same way,” Brass continues.
“When many of us were young, our folks said ‘this is what we are,’
and we just went along with it, ate it up like Thousand
Island.”

Released from Quarantine Alley, Vida and the
other new arrivals are stunned by the bustling encampment. They
walk among the people and gleeful children, following Abby to their
new homes. After living a life where all five in the house had to
be as quiet as possible, Vida feels like joining the young ones in
their carefree frolicking, to laugh and run and scream for no
reason.

Two trailers have been selected for them that
are side by side. Vida has one all to herself, with Mike and Jen as
her neighbors to make the transition easier. Their tour is on hold
for now because Brass radioed in saying he’ll be arriving with
Gabe, who will just be visiting. They are free to roam in the
meantime, and pointed in the direction of the stores where they can
pick up any items they need.

The stores are surrounded by a high wall of
plywood that completely encompasses them. Orange placards are
affixed that warn the place is scheduled for demolition and
explosives are in use. All Vida needs are toiletries and other
necessities, but she is thrilled by the prospect of shopping of any
kind. The temporary home they had slept in last night had the
basics, but she didn’t mind since it has been a while since she had
a real hot shower, or put on clothes that she didn’t have to hand
wash. The fresh cotton t-shirt provided for her feels like silk
against her skin.

She thinks of all the things she has taken
for granted her whole life. When Abby let her into her new trailer,
she was awed by the interior from the moment he flipped the lights
on, though it was just a modest space with modest furnishings.

The basket she carries around the grocery
store is brimming with her favorite body washes and lotions,
shampoos, and conditioners. She hasn’t even gotten to the cosmetics
yet.
Perhaps
,
I
need
a
cart
, she
thinks.

“Wow, Vida, you can always come back for more
later.” Abby laughs as he passes the makeup department. “You look
like you’re grabbing a lifetime supply.”

“Oh my god! Am I taking too much?” she asks
with concern over her hoarding.

“Not at all,” he says. “I’m just giving you a
hard time. Keeps us sane. Go nuts.”

Vida stands in the aisle, looking items over.
It’s been a long time since she has worn cosmetics. She starts by
selecting her foundation and goes from there, organizing her
choices by the order in which they are applied.

Once satisfied, she turns to Abby, meeting
his eyes. An easy task since he isn’t much taller than she is. She
has wondered about his name since hearing it last night. Then there
is the one called Brass, and the driver of the Gunship’s name is
Lady Luck. “Do I get to choose a cool nickname too?”

“If you want,” he tells her as they leave the
aisle together. “I’ve been Abby since I was a kid. My name is
actually Justin Abernathy.”

“Ahh, it’s nice to meet you Justin.” She
shakes his hand. “I wasn’t sure if you were given a girly name as a
kid to toughen you up.”

They share a smile as they stroll to Abby’s
shopping cart. All he has in it are multiple rolls of heavy duty
aluminum foil. Vida is glad to see she isn’t the only hoarder. “Are
you making a million baked potatoes?”she asks.

“Ribs actually,” he says. “Brass wants to
celebrate your arrival, and I happen to know the secret to making
the best ribs you’ve ever tasted.”

“A celebration, and the tour is on hold,”
Vida says suspiciously. “Is Brass trying to get Gabe to stay?”

“Probably. I don’t envy Gabe right now, being
stuck in a car with Brass so early. The man isn’t much of a morning
person. He’s prone to odd mood swings.”

“He seems like quite the character.”