Revenence: Dead of Winter: A Zombie Novel (18 page)

     Hugo nodded.  "I have close to perfect vision."

     "Let's have a look," Anthony said, starting toward the body.

     "I'm right behind you," Shari said, starting after him with her bow at the ready.  They jogged down the mostly empty street, arriving at the body Hugo had pointed out.

     "Smithgas," Anthony said, "sure enough."

     The body had turned to jerky in its time lying on the pavement in the late summer sun.  There were large holes ripped through the chest, along with one smaller hole through the temple.  Shari noted that he held a nine millimeter pistol in his right hand.

     "Assholes," she said, crouching to look more closely at the wounds on his chest, clearly made by much higher caliber rounds.  "Shot him in the chest and left him to either turn, or turn his gun on himself."

     "That's why we call them sadists," Anthony reminded her.

     "Yeah," Shari said.  "So let's see what he's got on him."

     She crouched to check the left pockets of the corpse while Anthony checked the right.  She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, discarding them on the asphalt.

     "No one wants smokes permeated with dead guy," she said.

     "Probably not," Anthony said.  "They're cigarettes, not crack."

     They finished searching the body, still coming up empty-handed.

     "The fuck did he do with those keys?" Shari mumbled, her eyes scanning the street in the direction from which they had come.  "The street was pretty clear.  If he dropped them somewhere between here and the truck, I sure didn't see them."

     "Me, either," Anthony said.  "And I made a point of looking."

     Shari looked back at the corpse, cocking her head to the side.  "Hmm," she said.  She grasped the undead man by the belt, giving it a sharp tug to pull the body aside.  She was surprised by how the corpse had become in its dehydrated state.  As she dragged him a few inches to the side, she and Anthohny heard the muted jingling of keys scraping the pavement.

     "A-ha!" Shari cried, reaching down to grab the keyring and throw it to Anthony.  "Those are for you."

     "Good thinking," Anthony said, starting back toward the rest of the group, waiting nearer the stadium.  "Let's get these to Hugo so he can do his thing."

     As they neared the stadium, something to Shari's left caught her attention.  It was a guitar in the backseat of an abandoned vehicle, and she approached cautiously to get a better look at the instrument.

     "What are you looking at?" Anthony asked.

     "This guitar," Shari said. 

     "Do you play?" Anthony asked.

     "No," Shari said, "but my dad was a guitar buff."  She peered through the rear window of the SUV, reading the inscription on the guitar.  "Holy shit," she said.  "This is a really rare Gibson.  My dad would've crapped his pants just to be able to hold this guitar."

     "You want it?" Anthony asked.

     "Nah," Shari said.  "Like I said, I don't play.  And it's rare, but it's not like I can sell it on eBay for a hefty profit anytime soon."

     "Phoebe plays," Anthony said.  "I'll surprise her with it.  She was saying just the other day how she misses her guitar from back home, and that her calluses are almost gone on her fingertips already."  He attempted to open the rear hatch of the SUV, but to no avail.  He peered through the driver's side window, noting that it and the rear doors were also locked, but that the passenger side door was not only locked, but left wide open.  He walked around to the passenger side, which was in the grass due to the vehicle having gone off the road, slamming into a light post, where it had come to rest.  As Shari waited on the street, he approached the open door.  As he leaned in through the front seat, unlocking the back door manually, he felt a sharp, stinging pain near his Achilles tendon.  He looked down, puzzled, to see what was left of a disembodied human head, neck, and partial torso, now undead and nearly melted into the overgrown grass.  Anthony resisted the urge to vomit, realizing that the only part of the zombie that he could clearly pick out as human was the open jaw and its rows of rancid teeth.  He gazed in disbelief as the jaws continued to move, albeit almost imperceptibly.  He lifted his pant leg and lowered his sock, revealing a well-defined wound in the shape of the jaw, blood trickling lightly from the small holes punctured by the incisors.  He reeled, his thoughts racing. 

    
I'll tell them,
he told himself. 
I'll tell them, just not right now. 
He opened the back door, reaching behind the backseat to retrieve the guitar from the trunk.

     "You all right?" Shari asked as Anthony appeared from around the vehicle with the guitar strapped around his neck.

     Anthony nodded.  "Yeah," he lied. 

     He and Shari continued toward the stadium.

     "Good eyes, Hugo!" Shari said, tossing Hugo the set of keys.  "Now let's hope the one we need is on this ring."

     Hugo hurried to the truck, trying the keys in the ignition until one of them turned, the semi rumbling to life.  He exited the cab, walking to the side of the truck to check the hose and its connections one final time. 

     "I think we're good to go," he said.  "That upper ledge goes most of the way around the stadium.  If we drive the truck around the building, we can really make sure we spread that gas around inside there."

     "At least the outer perimeter," Phoebe said.  "If we get the bleachers, everything in the middle will catch once the outside goes up in flames."

     "Especially when that propane tank blows," Hugo said.  "I can't believe I'll get to see that.  This is gonna be epic."

     "I'll handle the hose," Anthony said, causing Phoebe to snort in sophomoric amusement.

     "I'll drive," Phoebe told Hugo, "if you do the unloading."

     "I'm not even going to ask how it is that you know how to drive a semi," Anthony said, beginning his ascent to the ledge above the entrance, hose in tow.  "I'm not surprised, for one thing.  Besides, time's a factor."

     Phoebe took her place behind the wheel while Hugo began the unloading process.  Shari and Daphne kept a general on the area around the truck as it began its trip around the building.  Sixty feet above, Anthony trained his hose on those undead nearest the entrance, preparing to douse them with excelerant.

     "Hold it steady, Anthony," Hugo warned from below.  "Here it comes."

     Anthony sprayed the entrance thoroughly, arcing the gasoline past the ticket booths and toward the nearest bleachers.

     "Done!" he yelled down when he had saturated everything within his reach, letting the liquid trickle over the ledge and into the stadium until the stream came to a complete stop.  He climbed down, first from the roof to the truck, then to the ground from there.

     "That worked well," he informed the group.  "Drive about halfway down the length of the field.  It should give me the range I need."

     The group managed to work their way around the stadium before an hour had passed, and before the undead could manage to breach the front gate.

     "Alright," Anthony said as he hopped down from the tanker for the final time, "this place is flammable as could be.  I made sure to spray the propane tank itself, too."

     From the nearby entrance, the metal of the front gate shifted and groaned, stretched to its limit with the weight of the undead horde inside.

     "What's next, then?" Phoebe asked, turning off the truck's engine.

     "What's next is, you turn that engine back on," Anthony said.  "The four of you get in and get as far away from here as you can while I finish this."

     Phoebe smirked, narrowing her eyes.  "Say what?"

     "What are you talking about, Anthony?" Shari asked.

     Anthony turned his back toward the group, reaching down to lift his pant leg, revealing the angry, red welts resulting from the bite he had suffered.  The light wounds were already beginning to show signs of infection, as the marks themselves were puffy and the surrounding area swollen and pink.

    "I didn't see it 'til after it bit me," Anthony explained.  "It was basically just an open jaw laying there, attached to a chest and little else.  No arms."  He snorted in morbid amusement.  "It was damn near melting into the ground.  I can't even believe it was capable of turning its head or moving its jaw."  He shook his head, his eyes shiny.  "I just never saw it."

     Phoebe whimpered.  "No," she sobbed, "you were supposed to go to Chicago with us."

    
Landmine,
Shari thought in Kandi's voice, the word echoing through her mind as she choked back tears.

     "Anthony," she said, her wet eyes imploring him, "you don't have to die right here, right now.  At least come back with us for now."

     Down the way, from the front gate, metal creaked as it neared the point of giving way, well past its load-bearing capacity.

     "We don't have time to waste," Anthony snapped.  "You need to do what I asked before this street--"  He paused, pointing to the undead attempting to evacuate the stadium as he continued.  "Is full of those."

     Phoebe sniffled, her face contorted into a combination of rage and despair.  She flung herself into Anthony's arms.  "All the teasing," she said, "I never meant it.  You really are like a big brother to me."

     "Yeah, yeah," Anthony said, smiling and rolling his teary eyes.  "I know.  Just take care of yourself, and stay safe."  He shifted to regard the rest of the group.  "All of you.  I mean it."  He nodded slightly, narrowing his eyes.  "Give 'em hell.  And give 'em some extra for me."

     "Waht are you going to do?" Hugo asked, his voice cracking.

     "I'm going to make sure this all goes down the way it needs to," Anthony said, the sound of protesting steel behind him.  "But first, I need you guys to go away.  They'll bust through that gate any time now, so I don't have long.  I want you guys as far away as possible when the propane tank blows."   He handed his pack to Hugo, emptying his pockets.  "Just leave me the sawed-off," he said, going through an outside pocket of the backpack and taking out two shells.  "And these.  That's all I need."

     Hugo's eyes lit up, seizing on the shells in Anthony's hand.  "Are those dragon's breath?" he asked.

     Anthony nodded.  "Two more in that pocket yet," he said.  "You guys keep them.  They're two more than I need.  I'm sure you'll get the chance to put them to use." 

     He motioned for the group to come closer.

     "Group hug," he said.  "Then you guys need to piss off."

     Phoebe kissed him on the cheek.

     "Take this," Anthony told her, placing his snub-nose .38 into her hand.

     She pocketed the gun, then sobbed as she ran to the truck, climbing into the driver's seat without looking back.

     Daphne gave Anthony a one-armed hug, clapping him firmly on the back. 

     "I don't knowhow to thank you," she said, her tone low and audible only to Anthony.

     Anthony shrugged in response.  "Just try to stay alive," he said.

     "Thanks, Anthony," Hugo said, his voice cracking, as he embraced the other man in an uncommonly strong bear hug.

     "No problem, man,"Anthony said.  "I'm glad I met you guys.  I wish I had more time, but it is what it is."  He nodded toward the front gate.  "Now if you all don't mind...."

     Daphne and Hugo began to retreat toward the truck, where Phoebe waited.  They took with them the guitar Anthony had found for Phoebe.

     "I'll be right behind you guys," Shari called after them, turning back toward Anthony. 

     "Any chance you can spare me one final smoke?" Anthony asked her hopefully.  "I'm going out blazing, right?"

     "Of course, of course," Shari gushed, fumbling for a hard cigarette case in her inner coat pocket.  "It's the least I could do for you, all things considered."

     "Thanks," he said, taking the joint, which she lit for him.

     "I'm so sorry," she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck and brushing her cheek against his.

     "Don't be," Anthony told her.  "There's no point.  There's a lesson to be learned from all this," he said, his tone low, as he gently lifted her chin to brush lips with her.  "And that lesson is to look out for landmines.  Now get in the truck and go, go live."

     Shari nodded, backing away as the tears began to roll down her cheeks.  She turned and ran to the truck, its engine already idling, and climbed in.  She settled in the back with Daphne as Phoebe threw the truck into gear.  Anthony watched as they pulled away and headed toward the radio building.

     After they were gone from his field of vision, he started for the crane outside the western wall of the stadium. 

     He inhaled a deep lungful of smoke.  "Alright, guys," he told the undead filling the stadium, "we're in this together now."

     He looked up as he reached the crane, noting that it should be easy enough to climb the lattice-like arm until he was directly above the tank suspended over the middle of the field.  He climbed to the roof of the machine, then began his ascent up the arm.  He paused at the top, hugging the  latticed metal for stability as he took in the view of the small, twin-city area.  Neighborhoods lay nearly obscured from an aerial perspective, overgrown with indiginous prairie weeds and saplings, some of which had grown more than twelve feet in one season.  To the east, he saw the semi-tanker retreating, nearly a mile down the road, with a meager crowd of undead trailing behind.