Love in the Time of Zombies (12 page)

“We’re not an army,” I said to Michelle. “Look at them. They have Jeeps, an armored school bus, and…and them.” The blood left my head, leaving me light-headed and more scared than I’d been since the night of escaping San Francisco. A sea of rancid dead flesh waiting to turn us into more of the same took my breath away. Thoughts of suicide were too tempting.

They just stood there and swayed, their moans echoing off the buildings, sending shivers up my spine in spite of the heat. With the wind coming from the north, we were at least spared the reeking odor of the undead. That’s all we were spared, as the ‘general’ marched back and forth in front of his Jeep, strutting about as if he owned the world. I conceded that with his zomb’ army he could own what was left of the world we knew.

A tall, Hispanic man stood next to the Jeep with what looked like a synthesizer in front of him. According to the guy, Jed, he must be the one controlling the creatures. The cries of babies and children grated on my nerves along with the incessant hum that set my fillings to vibrating.

“Why can’t they leave us alone? There’s plenty for everyone. Wasn’t the flu enough? Wasn’t the rising of the dead enough? When does it stop?”

Michelle grabbed my arms and shook me. “I know it’s the hormones talking. But shut up. If you aren’t strong how am I supposed to be?” She’d taken the pregnancy test out of my hand and tucked it in my pocket. My mind was still blank. I hadn’t had time to process whether it was good or bad news.

“Congratulations, by the way.” She had the audacity to smile in the middle of all the chaos and certain death.

“How can you say congratulations? Are you insane?”

She handled me a rifle and my crossbow. “At least you have something to fight for now, don’t you?”

My heart pounded in my chest, the beats thumping in my ears. I did have something to fight for, something so precious it took my breath away. I had someone other than just myself to worry about now. I looked around the rooftop at the tents and people. We’d created something great here and they couldn’t have it. We’d destroy it ourselves before we let them have it.

The hum built to a crescendo in my head. I gritted my teeth and whipped my head around. Like so much cannon fodder they marched forward, their dead feet stumbling in the dirt of the field. Dust clouds billowed as the horde moved, their numbers hidden, but their rising moans hinting at hundreds.

Canida’s bellow echoed up and down the rooftop. “Don’t waste ammo. Let the traps do their work first. Only shoot if they get close to the walls.”

They fell into the pits in large groups. A cheer went up on the rooftop. I stared as the general raised a gun to the Hispanic man. He pointed to the synthesizer repeatedly. The short man turned in a circle until he spotted another man and shot him through the heart.

I gulped hot dusty air. He had to know that the dead didn’t stay dead. Proof was given as the shot man stood and started marching with the others. I raised my gun and sighted down the scope. The smirk on his face twitched on my last nerve. My finger touched the trigger. Shaking, I pulled it away. I’d never make the shot, it would just be a waste of a bullet, and staring at the horde, I knew we’d need every one. Our ammo was limited, the zombies weren’t.

Explosions went off and filled the air with blood, guts, and dirt. The Claymore mines we’d placed as the next line of defense were doing their job, destroying the suicide bombers before they could destroy our walls. I’d laughed at the time at the stupid easy directions of
Front toward Enemy
. Seeing the carnage steel balls could cause wasn’t so laughable now, even if the enemy was undead. I dry heaved on nothing but bile.

The stench of the zombies reached us as the undead reached the walls. Firing straight down made it easier to hit the head but the bodies started piling up and the skinbags just climbed over the pile like army ants trying to get to the fresh meat they must smell now that they were so damned close. Their moans ratcheted up as the pile grew and they inched closer.

Running up and down the wall, I tried to spread out the kills. The men near me followed suit and dead bodies formed smaller and smaller piles. An explosion rocked the building as the zombie’s vests were detonated. Flesh and dirt flew into the air. Dust blocked my breathing and my vision. Screams filled the air. I’d never understood the insanity of going to war and I didn’t understand it now. Even saving humanity didn’t seem worth this—this abomination.

Staring down at the wall, I saw blackened bricks. Further down the building, near the biggest pile, a giant hole gaped through the bricks. The undead spilled into the opening with live men following right behind. My heart stopped beating. Canida rushed to our side of the building.

“Emily, hold this side with the Alpha group. Beta will fall back to the ground and take out the ones who make it inside.”

I grabbed a few men and women and pointed to the field beyond. “Shoot anything that moves on two legs. Even a leg shot will slow them down.”

Turning, my gaze followed Canida and his group as they sprinted down the wooden stairs. I whipped my head back around as guns started firing into the mass below. My bladder wanted to let go as my flight mentality tried to kick in.

Metallic booms rang out as the zombies reached the steel cargo containers blocking the streets into the shopping center. I grabbed Michelle’s shoulders and screamed into her ear. “That’s it. Round up the women, children, and babies and get out of here. I’ll meet you at the retreat site.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” she cried out. “You have to come too.” Her hands dug into my arm.

“I’ll be right behind you. I’m not a martyr.” I touched my stomach. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

Waiting until she gathered the women on the roof, I turned back to the front. The echo of the stampede down the stairs wafted over me as I sighted and shot with the rifle until it clicked empty. Throwing it down, I grabbed my crossbow over my shoulder and shot until my bolts were gone. Tossing it back, I turned to leave with the rest of the group. A light flashed off something in the field. I yanked up a gun and sighted with the scope. There it was again. A glint of something shone on one of the skinbags. At one time he had been a man. His jeans and blue T-shirt were encrusted with blood and gore. Green glimmered in his ear. The rifle dropped from my tingling hands. I pulled the forgotten binoculars to my eyes and zoomed in. A shamrock earring glimmered in its ear.

“Seth!” My cry carried across the field.

It was him. It wasn’t him. My mind splintered. I had to know. How could I leave without knowing for sure? Temporary silence filled the rooftop. Everyone but me was gone. Running to the rope ladder, I threw it down over the side of the building. I grabbed a handgun and checked it for bullets. One left. All I would need.

My feet slipped as I rushed down the rope. I fell the last few rungs and stumbled to the ground. Only the ragged sound of my breathing filled my ears. The battle’s din was lost to the thumping heartbeat in my ears. I weaved and dodged the skinbags left in the field. Stumbling, I almost fell into a pit, jumping around the edge of it instead, dirt crumbling under my feet and undead hands reaching for me.

I skidded to a stop in front of the thing that had been a man. The hum had him intent on reaching the walls. His gaze skittered over me as if I wasn’t there.

The hair left on his head was the right color. The eyes behind the opaque shield were light enough to be hazel. The earring was Seth’s, I knew it. My fingers clawed at the suicide vest and ripped it off his chest. I threw it behind me. His shirt was in tatters, along with the flesh below. If he’d had a tattoo there, I’d never know now. I screamed his name, hoping against all logic that he’d notice me; as if some remnant of my lover still existed in this bag of flesh and bones before me.

A massive explosion rocked the world and tore the silence to shreds. Ringing filled my ears. I stumbled with my equilibrium thrown off. Dust and debris filled the air, along with blood and gore. I turned and the shopping center was a pile of rubble. Bricks and body parts rained down across the dusty field. Something flew in the air toward me. I flung my hands up, but it hit my head. Pain, and then nothing as black emptiness filled my vision.

“Who is that warrior goddess?” Martin Peters said, watching the dark-haired woman shimmy down the rope ladder and run across the field of zombies. She’d screamed something and taken off like a shot toward a shambling undead. He held his breath as she’d ripped off the vest full of explosives and flung it away.

A crack of sound filled the sky as the shopping center buildings imploded, flames shooting into the air, and the wave of superhot air throwing debris and dust into their midst. He turned and covered his face. Even with a thousand bombers he couldn’t have caused the explosion.

“Damn them,” he yelled. Canida and his people had to have caused it. As the dust cleared, he had a straight view to what was left of the fortress. Piles of rubble replaced the buildings that would have housed him and his men this winter. A few undead shuffled around the debris, but most were buried under mounds of bricks and mortar. His men were the only live people he saw. He picked up a rock and threw it across the field.

“Fall in,” he bellowed, counting as his men ran to the vehicle from their locations around the open space. “Ten,” he whispered, the blood leaving his head.
Twelve if you counted him and Antonio. A few worthless doctors and Tanya still unconscious in the bus.

He straightened his spine and stood tall. “Gather all the weapons you can find. Head shots to anyone you see, alive or undead. Then we’ll check out the shopping center. They couldn’t have gotten everything out. Fall out. We leave in one hour.”

Antonio’s fingers moved over the keyboard and the undead scattered as far away as they could get. “We’re going to need fuel for the generator if you find it. We need this running more than weapons.”

“Understood,” Martin muttered under his breath. If he only knew how the man did it, Antonio would be gone.

Peters walked across the field toward where he’d seen the dark-haired woman. Sporadic shots rang out as his men zigzagged across the field. He stopped every few feet to grab a weapon or shoot the undead still crawling along the ground, trying to escape the humming sound.

He dropped the guns in his arms as he approached the woman. She lay unmoving on the ground. A crossbow was strapped over her shoulder. He smiled. What a beautiful weapon. He wanted it. Nudging her with his foot, she lay there dead. He shrugged. A pity. What a waste. She had been even more beautiful than Tanya. And brave. A warrior. He would have liked to beat her into submission. Had her begging for a mercy he didn’t have.

He reached for the crossbow and pulled, but it wouldn’t come. He grabbed a shoulder and rolled her over. A bruise was forming on her temple and blood leaked across her face. Finding a buckle on the strap for the crossbow, he squatted down and his fingers worked the buckle. A moan startled him. Her eyelids lifted and dark, deep eyes stared at him with intelligence.

“What in the fuck are you doing?”

He grinned, raised his fist, and struck her on the bruised temple. She slipped back into unconsciousness with a small whimper. He gathered her up and flung her limp body over his shoulder. He walked right past the pile of guns. Let his men get them. He’d found something better than any weapon. An insurance policy if Tanya didn’t wake up.

To die. To sleep. Ripped from us.

To die. To Hell. Taken from us.

Hell is to live.

Heaven is a wisp, a vapor, a lie.

—
Seth Ripley

Had it been two weeks, or three? Seth shook his head. He didn’t know anymore. The days blended one into another in a heated-oven feel of Indian summer. The calendar said October, the weather said mid-July. He grabbed the bandana off his neck and scrubbed the sweat from his face, before tucking it into his back pocket. Yearning for the bay breeze he missed, he pushed up his shirt sleeves and hacked at another zombie with his machete. He wiped the blood on its shirt and moved to the next, kicking the finally dead thing to the side.

Clearing the area each day sapped his energy, but it assured they got a peaceful rest at night. The sound of the girl fighting at his back had become reassuring in a short time.

“I feel like a packrat,” she said between whacks of her own machete. “All we do is fight, gather food, and sleep.”

“This sucks,” they intoned together, and then laughed.

“Beats the alternative,” he grunted back, pulling the steel from a skull with a sickening sound.

He kicked the body to the side. “I’ve got two more.”

“I’ve got one,” Miranda added.

Whack.

“I’m done.”

“Me, too,” Seth added. He wiped the blade clean and scanned the area. Calming his breathing, he sighed as silence filled the street. No moans. No shuffling of dead feet.
The dead are now dead. About fucking time.

He pulled the bandana out of his pocket and wrapped it around his face, covering his nose and mouth. The small market had intact glass windows, promising the possibility of canned goods. Also, promising the reek of decomposed fruits, vegetables, and meat.

They stepped through the door with a jangle of a bell. Seth tensed and waited, Miranda silent at his back. Nothing. He breathed in and regretted it instantly as the miasma of months-old food filled the tiny bodega.

Seth headed to the tiny aisle of canned soups and vegetables. Miranda passed on his right, headed for the soap and deodorant section. The undead might track them better when they smelled fresh, but he wasn’t ready to give up all comforts yet. Someday there would be no more soap unless someone out there knew the old way of making it. Until then he would enjoy it.

“We should find a library,” he whispered in the darkened store. “Find some of those how-to books. Maybe a doomsday prepper wrote some.”

Miranda giggled in the back of the store. “Who knew those guys had it right all along?”

Seth sobered up quickly. They had had it right. Why had everyone, himself included, laughed at them? If it hadn’t been the Z flu, it would have been something else. Something always came along to cull the herd when it got too big. Always.

“I think I saw a library the other day. Two streets over. To the west.” Miranda’s voice pulled him back from his dismal thoughts.

“Let’s get this stuff back to the apartment. Maybe we’ll see the building from one of the windows.”

Miranda strode to his side with a bulging burlap sack. He hefted his full knapsack to his back and they headed out, this time with his hand holding the bell from jangling. A quick scan of the street showed a few shamblers at least three blocks away. Nothing to worry about.

A swift run and they were back to the apartment building they called home for the moment.

Miranda ran a hand over her buzzed head. Without taking his eyes from the binoculars, he jerked her hand down. “Leave it alone, it’s growing,” he grunted.

“Fine,” she mumbled.

“I can see a book deposit box on the corner on the next block. The library must be the one with the red tile roof.”

Seth handed her the binoculars. She put them up to her eyes and stared in the direction he pointed. “Yep, says Public Library on it. Do you think it will be crowded? Would people have gone there in an emergency?”

“Not sure,” he said as he grabbed his rifle and pulled the strap over his shoulder. “Probably not. Most evacuation centers in a disaster are large, open buildings. Gyms and armories.”

She handed the binoculars back to Seth. His injured hand reached for them and missed, the strap finding nothing to catch on with his missing fingers. A muttered oath slipped out as he kicked them across the room.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He reached over and pulled her close. “You don’t have to be sorry. You saved my life, Ran.”

She smiled at his new nickname for her. Her heart beat wildly as she gazed up at his hard, handsome face. Her hands reached and grabbed his face. Before she could think, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him. His lips were warm and soft and tender against hers. For a perfect second, he kissed her back.

With a groan, he pulled away. “Don’t do that. You’re a child.”

“General Peters didn’t think I was a child.” She knew she was hurt and pouting like a child, but she didn’t care. She had been there for Seth and he had been there for her. They belonged together. “I’m nineteen and a half.”

He pushed her against the wall until her spine hit. Not hard, but not soft either.

“If you have to add ‘and a half’ that just shows how young you are. Don’t ever compare me to that monster. He took everything. Your innocence. Your father. My mother. Emily.”

The last name left his lips on a shaking stutter she felt through her body. “You don’t know she’s dead. Not really.”

“I saw what they did to the hospital. No way did the Streets group survive that. They’re all gone and I’m sure Peters is lording it over Brentwood from the compound. No one is going to stop him. With his zombie army, he’ll take over the whole area. Hell, the whole state.”

“We could go see,” she whispered, staring at the floor. Part of her really wanted them to go so Seth could see everyone was dead and he could move on. Another part of her wanted the Streets group to have won and to know for sure that Martin Peters was dead and gone.

Seth stepped back and crossed his arms on his chest. “There is a saying about revenge, about digging two graves.”

She’d heard that saying in English class. It didn’t matter. “So he just gets away with what he’s done? To everyone. To me.”

He didn’t say a word. Just gathered his weapons and headed to the door. She followed, her head held high.

I’m willing to die, if it means I take Peters with me.

An intense ten minutes later, and they reached the library with limited killing. Seth used a machete and she used a small pick-axe she’d picked up at a hardware store. The door to the building stood open, with darkness as far as she could see inside.

Turning, she checked out the street as Seth made his way through the entrance with her following. She held her breath as he snapped a Glo stick and rolled it across the floor. It came to rest against a pile of papers. Her heartbeat sped up at the comforting, familiar smell of books and the graham crackers of story time.
Don’t let there be kids.

An exhaled breath left her as silence filled the building. No moans, no shambling footsteps, no voices telling them to put their hands up. She took a chance. Although it seemed wrong for a library, she breathed in and called, “hello” in a loud voice.

“Well, you couldn’t have come for food, since there isn’t any. And I’m pretty sure there isn’t anyone left to help you check out a book anymore.”

Her breath caught in her throat. A young man walked toward them, his hands in the air. He looked to be about her age, but the calm tranquility on his face made him appear much younger. With the bleached blonde, spiky hair and his cargo shorts, his whole persona screamed surfer dude.

“Hi, I’m Cody Taylor. You’re the first real people I’ve seen in weeks.”

Seth held his hand up for silence. Moans echoed from the street. He strode over and slowly shut and locked the door. As he walked back over, she stared at Cody. The man looked like he was just hanging out in the ZA until the next killer wave hit.

Seth came over with outstretched arms and herded them toward the back of the library. “Where have you been staying?” he asked while they walked down the aisle.

The young man pointed to a staircase in the corner. “There’s a loft upstairs.”

Seth waved the kid ahead and they followed.

He smiled as Miranda squealed like the young girl she still was in so many ways once she spied Cody Taylor’s collection of weapons nailed and hung on far wall. Seth’s smile broadened as well at the sight of several AR-15’s and even a rocket launcher.

A few candles provided enough light to see all the corners of the loft. The area was spacious but not over large. He moved to where the kids stood as Miranda asked about the weapons.

“The armory is about a mile or so away on the west side of town. I hit there the first week. The soldiers were undead or gone. I had my car back then, but it’s too dangerous to drive around now unless you have a tank. The remnants follow you like a herd of cows at sunset.”

“Remnants?” she asked.

“That’s what I’ve been calling them. They’re just the remnants of who they were. Like, when we die and our soul leaves. Our bodies are just shells.”

“Where’s the rest of your group?” Seth butted in, the subject too close to how his mother used to talk for comfort.

“No group. I’ve been alone since it happened. Came home from Sac State as fast as I could.” His gaze shot around the library. “My mom was librarian here.”

Seth stared in amazement as Miranda sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to her for the boy. “You didn’t find her?”

“Ran,” he said, glaring at her.

“What? Like it isn’t the first question everyone asks. Where were you? How did you get here? Where is your family?”

Cody’s face brightened a little. “Like I said, I was at Sac State. Junior year. Majoring in economics.” He laughed. “Great choice, right? I should have joined Future Farmers of America or something. I drove here. The freeway most of the way, over the hills and through fields the rest of the time. Mom was it. All I had.”

Miranda grabbed his hand. “You didn’t find her, did you?” she asked again in a whisper that Seth just caught.

“No, I thought she would be here since she wasn’t at the house.” He swallowed with an audible click. “And I haven’t seen her outside…yet.”

“And you guys?”

Seth winced at the question. He still had nightmares from the hospital. He rubbed where his fingers should be. Constant rubbing seemed to be toughening the area up. Every day they were a little less sensitive to touch.

Miranda thankfully piped up first. “I lived out in Knightsen.”

At his puzzled look, she added, “In the boonies, out on the Delta.”

“Did you live there with your family? You know, after.”

She squared her shoulders and Seth took a step forward but Cody seemed to be doing okay with the girl. The young man grabbed both her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” she said with the fakest smile Seth had ever seen on her. “We lived in a compound for a while until the leader came here to Concord to attack the hospital a few weeks ago.”

“I think I remember that,” Cody said. “I heard a bunch of vehicles and I was going to run outside but the moans of the remnants filled the streets. I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t hear a bunch of shooting and yelling. The whole town was quiet except for ‘them.’”

“They were leading the zombies. They made them into an army.”

“No fucking way,” he added, and then turned to Seth. “What about your family, dude?”

“My mother was at the hospital,” he intoned and turned away, rubbing where his fingers should be. He pulled his hand away when he saw he was doing it again. Time to forget and move on.

“So, um. Tell me about this zomb army thing,” Cody piped up too loud.

Seth turned away as Miranda explained the impossible. His mind traveled to Brentwood and Emily. He wanted to pray it had been fast, but praying wasn’t something he turned to anymore. The man upstairs wasn’t at home. And his mother wasn’t here to remind him.

Because, he’d killed her.

Okay, maybe the zombies killed her, but he’d finished the job.