Life Among the Dead (Book 4): The End (44 page)

“Gonna have to go oldschool, I guess,” Carla drops a box of strike anywhere matches next to him after peeling off the clear plastic wrap.

“Did you know the match was actually invented
after
the lighter?” Dan says to her while putting his useless lighter back into his pocket with another item he superstitiously carries, his locket.

“There you fucking go again,” she huffs in a whisper.

Dan touches a struck match to the logs, igniting the paper that surrounds them until the entire bottom row is aflame. The flames lick upward spreading quickly, belching black smoke.

Dan drops all his gear, including his 9mm that he hands to his sheriff. “Keep an eye on the tower,” he tells her. “They’re going to gather there, wait to call in the strike until it looks like we’ve got them all. Find a way out through the back if the smoke gets too thick for you.”

She understands his plan. She’s to remain here while he lures the dead to the water tower. In Dan’s hands in the onion container he had collected Gar’s necklace in at the beach, within it is what remains of the sample. The howling dead are on the street, their calls come from both sides as they close in. Dan sprints towards the field across the road, opening the Tupperware and letting the green goo expand.

Now he has the attention of all the New Breed that evaded the trap before. They can smell what they crave in the air and are all heading for the Hills. Carla watches as he dashes across the field, the dead flood in from both sides, soon the street is filled with them all chasing Dan. She wants to call Lady Luck now but knows she has to wait.

Dan climbs the rungs of one of the ladders that extend up the tower’s legs, this gives him a bit of a lead on the crazy zombies, until they figure out how to climb it. Soon a line of them follows him up to the catwalk that wraps around the large tank. Dan travels around the cylinder, out of sight briefly until Carla spots him running up the steel stairs affixed to it. The dead have stopped coming, they are all under the tower fighting each other to get to the ladder until a few notice that each leg has one. The witness is reminded of Dan’s explanation of his plan, the thing about the ants. That’s what the dead look like as they pursue the sample, the crumb they desire.

She calls the chopper in, telling Lady Luck what to look for. The smoke is filling up the store, unable to spill out fast enough. She exits through the front rather than the back since it’s not her that the dead wish to get their hands on at the moment. She’s worried about her friend who is now on top of the tower, opening a hatch on the roof.

The opening of the hatch creates a small circle of light below on the surface of the water inside. It’s dark, like an ocean at night, making it hard to tell how far down he will fall as he lowers himself into the breach. He lets go of the edge and plunges in.

Once Dan’s head surfaces he treads the water to stay afloat as he locates his knife. He uses the blade to open the fresh scar tissue on his wrists needing to get his blood flowing. His legs mix this special batch of Bug Juice, straight from concentrate. The incisions are healing quicker than he had thought they would and he must keep slashing away at himself to make the poison as strong as possible, it can’t be too diluted. The sharp edge is dragged under his arm to open his brachial artery. Soon he doesn’t register the pain he is causing himself, just the end results of this sacrifice.

Blood loss sneaks up on the tortured man, his flesh may heal but what he loses into the water isn’t replacing itself fast enough. His legs are growing weak, his kicks are losing the strength to keep himself afloat, but still he keeps slashing. He opens his blood vessels even as he sinks to the bottom of the tank.

“I see it,” Lady Luck announces over the radio. From the air she spots the black smoke and the water tower nearby, the dead are below clamoring to get up the ladders. They are all over the tank, crowding the catwalk and the spiraling stairs, even on the roof falling into the opening. By the time the zombies on the ground hear the chopper blades slicing through the air it’s too late.

The chopper comes about sideways, its door mounted machine gun roars with vengeance, perforating the tank. Tainted water comes out like a giant watering can at first until the weakened shell loses its battle to keep the contents in and ruptures in a sudden splash that drenches the area below.

The desiccated flesh of the dead readily absorbs the water like sponges taking the poison into their tissues and nullifying them. Behind Carla the store burns as she searches the fallen bodies for sight of her friend. The chopper sets itself down right on the street. Having grabbed Abby and Vida just before the pin-up pilot got the call, the three of them hop out and join the concerned looking woman in her scan of the soaked mess.

Not a single body moves among the heaps of tangled corpses. Dan isn’t among the dead, the force of the rupture had sent him many yards away with all those that had dropped in after him. He drags himself from thick thorny bushes that edge the field, already healed from his numerous self-inflicted wounds, and the machine gun rounds that tore through his body. He shivers against the cold, goosebumps rise on his newly formed flesh.

A gasp of relief escapes Carla when she sees Dan standing at the far end of the park, she rushes to him immediately to give him a hug that almost threatens to strangle him to death. The grateful sheriff releases Dan, she drags him by the hand to warm up by the burning storefront.

He hasn’t a clue what to expect upon his return to Story Book Land, and it doesn’t matter. He takes one last look around the city he once thought to settle down in and raise a family before saying, “Let’s go home.”

7

A heroes’ welcome awaits as they land in the parking lot of the theme park. The gate is wide open as the residents of Story Book Land rush out into the world to meet them. Most of the brave bait car drivers are still inbound, but those that have filtered in have come home to the same greeting.

Beyond the cheering civilians, townsfolk of New Castle and Rubicon, stand soldiers as Dan expected. It isn’t an unusual sight to see soldiers, this is different. There’s been a subtle shift in their composure, a knowing all-business expression is shared by the armed men.
This would be the perfect time
, Dan thinks.
With so many Rubies still on their way and all the folks of New Castle unarmed and unsuspecting
. The Major is about to make his move since he will face little opposition.

Heather and the boys are the first in line to receive them, and a much welcomed sight. Dan rushes to them and latches on. He kisses his wife as the men in green close in around him.

“I’ll be fine,” he tells his love to her confusion, he wants to brace her for what’s to come. Dan takes a few steps back from his family while telling them, “I love you.”

Dan Williamson’s hands rise before the rifle barrels do. He shows them that he is not a threat, nor will he run.

“What the fuck is this?” Carla demands.

“Mr. Williamson,” the Major appears, ignoring the question posed regarding the situation. The cheers and voices have gone silent in surprise as all watch what is transpiring. “I’m sorry but I…”

“I know,” Dan interrupts, calm for a man with so many weapons pointed at him. “Though you need my blood, you can’t have someone like me running around even with a guard. It’s too risky,” he sums up.

“I’m happy that you won’t be putting up a fight.”

Dan may be willing to surrender without a fight, but his sheriff isn’t. Carla screams with fiery hatred as she tries to get at the Major. The soldiers catch her before she can get close enough to him, they disarm her. She bucks and kicks against the many hands that have seized her.

“Carla, take it easy,” Dan warns, not wanting her to get herself into too much trouble on his account. He’s accepted this, even before leaving for Waterloo. Dan doesn’t take his eyes off his family for a second, he looks into Heather’s beautiful green eyes and tries to assure her as he calms his loyal friend, “It’s for the best.”

“Major!” Abby protests, forcing his way closer, “We didn’t discuss this!”

“I don’t have to discuss anything with you, son. The peculiarities in Mr. Williamson’s blood are too dangerous. For all we know he could begin a new plague. It’s as he himself said, for the best. The best for everyone here. The best for our newly liberated nation. We all owe you and your people a great debt.”

“Yeah, I’ll put it on your tab,” the younger man replies feeling powerless to stop the injustice that takes place before his eyes.

“Shall we?” the Major says, motioning for Dan to follow him into the park.

Taking a look back at his wife and sons the prisoner smiles. Today they have been given a great gift, every last living person has, Dan included, freedom.

8

Dan Williamson use to wake to each new day with a full to-do list, from the moment he rolled out of bed he knew exactly what he would need to do and every obstacle in his way. He would prioritize this list in his mind and try to anticipate problems that would likely appear. He faced each dawn knowing he was about to face things he hated but had to get through with hardly a gripe or show of discomfort.

At each day’s end he would go to bed exhausted, knowing exactly what the next would bring. That was then, Dan has changed.

Savagely bashing against a rock what he’s found, gripping it tightly by its hair. It cracks open with a flash of white against the brown husk. He quickly kneels, drinking deeply of his quarry, his scruffy beard soaking in what flows down his chin. He loves coconut milk, though hardly ever a fan of the fruit itself due to its odd crunchy texture. He has a similar objection to water chestnuts.

“Ahoy!” a voice calls to him from the ocean. Carla approaches in her boat. The decision was made for him to live out his life on Emerald Key, one of the smallest islands off the southern coast of Florida. “I got supplies.”

“A surprise?” he asks, hearing her wrong over her engine.

“Supplies,” she corrects him with a laugh, cutting off her motor. She hops out of the boat into the shallows along with her crew, Hippo and Killian. The boys take the rope attached to the bow and find a place to tie it. “We watched you whack open that coconut. You’re really taking to this whole castaway thing, aren’t you?”

“When in Rome. Yesterday, I’m proud to say, I actually napped in a hammock.” Dan says. He offers her some of his find but she just gives his gesture a quick shake of the head. “How’s the state of the Union?”

“Good!” she reports. “With the help of the Marines, humanity has pretty much taken back the continental US.”

“Nice.”

“There are plans being made to move onward into Canada and Mexico since both have large populations of zombies still. For now they are holding them back and blocking passage,” she tells her old friend. “We have a shot at the whole Western Hemisphere.”

“I’m sure there’s already talk about going global from there,” Dan guesses. “Head up into Alaska and over the Bering Strait into Russia.”

“Yeah, just talk right now. One step at a time.” She suddenly remembers a bit of big news she wanted to be sure to share, “Oh! Speaking of making big decisions, guess who they found in Washington.”

“The president?”

“No, his secretary!” she says. “Apparently, someone was bitten when they went down into their bunker. Soon, all the heads of state had to be shot in the head. But, this has raised the question of leadership. Who will run the country once it’s ours again? Viable candidates are being considered and the people will be able to vote just like old times. I put your name into the hat.”

“You had better be fucking kidding!” Dan says immediately.

“I am,” she assures with a chuckle. “But, seriously there will be a vote down the road. Vida put my name on the ballot.”

“Really?”

“She’s out rallying support,” Carla says not fully believing it herself. “She’s using the whole ‘Cruise ship of the Damned’ incident.”

“I’ll vote for you,” Dan admits, truly believing her to be a good choice, “if I’m even allowed to vote.”

“You’d vote for me? I don’t know,” she says, sounding on the fence about the prospect. “That Abby guy declined the nom. The Rubies would vote for me over Major Barnwell. He’s already raised his hand.”

“I say, go for it!” Dan encourages her.

“Not much for me to fuck up, right? No countries squabbling just zombies, and we all hate them. There’s no economy to worry about or taxes, unemployment. The borders are meaningless so immigration is no longer a problem.”

“You could be the literal leader of the free world since nationality is an outdated concept. We’re all just survivors.”

“I don’t know, this is huge,” Carla says making a pained face. “It makes my stomach gross just thinking about it.”

“People just need one individual to look to for guidance, I’d rather turn to someone that has actually been in the fight over someone that’s been hiding for the past nineteen months. Most of the greatest presidents went to war, you could be our generation’s George Washington.”

The sentiment makes Carla chuckle. “Yeah, imagine this face and these tits on the one dollar bill.”

“There’s your slogan,” Dan quips.

“Anyways,” Carla shrugs off the subject. “That’s still a long way off. No sense getting all worried about it now.”

“Uh, Carla,” Hippo says with concern. Carla turns to the boy to see what the matter is and follows his gaze to the water’s edge. In the surf is a body.

The corpse is moving but is unable to get far. The tide drags it out only to bring it crashing back onto the beach once more. It’s face down in the sand, trying to get up with its skeletal arms and managing to only rock itself back and forth.

The adults approach. Dan turns it over with his sandaled foot, both are taken aback by the grotesque sight of the dead man’s other side. His face is gone, just a polished skull. His chest cavity is open, steel devices meant to hold it open have long since been bent and broken, now the rib cage swings like a set of double doors. This zombie had clearly been undergoing some surgical procedure when it expired and arose once more. It’s naked and swollen. The organs that play peek-a-boo are waterlogged and colorless. A fish is trapped within the flopping sides, thrashing to get back to the water.

A plastic identification bracelet is around the flailing thing’s boney wrist, miraculously it had survived the evident mauling. Dan crouches down out of pure curiosity and takes the cadaver’s bones in his hands. He needn’t worry about getting bit since the zombie is unable to reach for him though it moves as if it wants to, attempting to use the weight of its head to lunge at the human that squints to read its name off the water damaged tag.

“Donny De…something,” Dan says. His eyes go wide with surprise when he decrypts more. “He was a patient at Olive Grove!”

“In Waterloo?”

“Yeah,” Dan stands, looking down at the corpse. It’s where Dan’s son, Vincent, was born. Where Oz was working the day the plague hit. “It’s a small world.”

“Getting bigger every day,” Killian interjects.

“It does at that, doesn’t it,” Dan nods.

“It’s been a while since you did one the old fashioned way, hasn’t it?” Carla asks her friend. She has picked up a large pointed rock that she hands to him.

“It certainly has.” Almost two months have gone by since Dan and Carla fought the New Breed in Waterloo. “Are you sure you don’t want to do it? This could be the very last zombie in America.”

“Go for it,” she implores.

Dan takes the rock and gazes down at the dead man. It twitches, still trying to get its nonexistent hands on the humans. The movement causes its ribcage to open and close like a mouth. Dan drops to his knees in the sand just above the zombie’s head, the corpse turns toward one leg, and then to the other as if trying to gauge which is closer. Dan brings the rock down hard upon its temple. The first blow is retribution for all the lives lost, he brings it down again for all of his own personal suffering at the hands of the dead. He brings the rock down a third time, the hardest of all, to finish the job. The skull cracks apart like a coconut.

Dan tosses aside the rock, satisfied with his work, all of it. A voice yells to those on the beach, far away. Dan looks and sees Barbara coming their way from the resort. The blonde ball of energy is weaving through the lounge chairs by the pool and dashing through the gardens. Dan was forced to leave, but many followed; Carla, David, Susan and all their kids, Lindsey, and of course Heather and the boys. It wasn’t hard for him to convince the Major that exile would be the fairest option over imprisonment, all he required was Doctor Flemming to back him up as to what he really needed, rest and relaxation. Now that the threat of the dead has been eradicated, Dan figures he’ll actually have peace of mind. The others can come and go as they please, one day Dan may be able to as well if he wishes. At the moment he doubts he will ever wish to.

“I wonder what’s up,” Carla says.

“It’s time!” the excited young girl’s words become audible. “It’s time!”

“Oh, fuck me!” Dan exclaims, realizing what ‘time’ it is, with a smile. “Heather’s in labor!”

“Good,” Carla cheers. “I thought that kid was never going to be born, it feels like she’s been pregnant for years.”

The proud new father stands, torn between rushing to meet the herald and washing the gore off himself in the ocean.

“Just go!” Carla excuses him. “You don’t want to miss Johnny being born, do you?”

He doesn’t want that at all. He runs towards the elegant resort to greet his new son who arrives at the best possible time he could, the darkest days are coming to a close and the future is bright. Dan Williamson runs to witness Johnny enter a world of possibilities, full of new beginnings.

The End.