Rotten (17 page)

“Shit,” Highland said, and started down the road with his gun held out in front of him. 

We followed, scanning the tree line on each side of the road.  “I don’t see it, but I smell it.”  You know how sometimes you will smell the scent of a dead animal as you are driving past road kill or walking in the woods where some bird or squirrel met its end? This scent was a hundred times worse and for the lack of a better description, it felt greasy, as though it was adhering to our clothes and skin with the tenaciousness of motor oil. 

We were spread out in a row across the street, looking everywhere and seeing nothing.  “We’re surrounded,” Rotten said, and we moved closer together. 

“There!”  Moonshine pulled the rifle off his shoulder, looked through the scope, and fired and fifty yards away, past our cars, a man in black fell out of the tree line. 

“There!” Rotten fired his pistol at a woman wearing knee-high boots and a fur jacket that stepped out of the woods on the opposite side of the road and missed.  We all fired and one of us hit her and she fell to the grass. 

“Run!” Highland took off toward the cars, looking this way and that, and we followed.  We ran between the cars and piled in on top of each other in a panic.  Luckily foresight dictated that we leave the keys in the ignition so whoever landed in the drivers seat, Princess in the truck, and Rotten in the Jeep, could quickly start the engine and we were off.  At the curve we slowed and looked back to see several zombies in the road and headed in our direction. 

Princess stopped the truck and Rotten pulled up beside her.  “We should kill them,” she said.  “We either do it now or deal with them later.” 

“But the more shooting we do, the more will hear and come out, and I ain’t in the mood for no hand to hand combat,” Moonshine said. 

“We could run them over, I guess,” I said.

“But if we don’t get the brain they’ll just drag themselves along until they find us.”  Rotten watched them getting closer through the rearview mirror.

“Shit!”  Moonshine stepped out of the truck with the rifle in his hands.  He climbed into the cage he’d made in the bed and slammed the tailgate.  “When I say go, go.” He rested the barrel of the gun on the edge of the truck and squinted into the scope.  The first shot just nicked the head and the zombie stumbled and then righted itself, the second shot knocked it down.  The others were getting closer and it took one shot each for an old man in overalls, and a woman in a cotton dress, socks, and crocs, who fell several yards away.  “Go!” Moonshine yelled, but we were already moving. 

I glanced at the speedometer and saw we were topping seventy, with Princess close on our tail.  “Maybe you should slow down, Rotten,” I said.

“Yeah, sorry.”  He slowed.  “Hopefully the zombies will go to the noise of the shots and not to us.”  

“Still want to check out the houses?” I said.

“I suppose we should, but if the zombies are attracted to sound, we sure need to find a better way to kill them, especially when we’re at the cabin.”  Highland scanned the road and trees. 

“I wonder if they still remember things like the ones in Blacksport, if so zombies could be all over the place out here.  I wonder how many have passed our dirt road going into or out of Arlington since it happened.”

“I don’t want to think about it.”  Rotten slowed and pulled into the driveway of a ranch style brick home and turned around before parking.  Princess did the same, facing the truck for a quick get away, and we stepped out of the vehicles, sniffing.

“I don’t smell them,” Princess said, her nose in the air.

“Me, either.  Looks like the front door is open,” I said, and called out softly, “Hello.  Is there anyone here?”  We moved forward cautiously, our guns ready, and stepped onto the porch. 

Moonshine knocked on the door, which squeaked as it opened wider, and said, “Anyone here?”  Hearing no answer, and not smelling the scent of death, he stepped onto the carpet. 

We followed him, taking in the floral furniture and curtains, the painting of Jesus set above the mantel, and the empty gun rack over the TV.  He stepped in the opening of the kitchen and looked down the hall.  “Hello,” he said again, softer, and motioned his head toward the open doorways.  “Someone go look down there, the kitchen is empty.” 

Highland moved off, followed by Rotten, and they checked the bedrooms and bathroom, found no sign of anyone and we all entered the kitchen.  “Someone’s been here, and not a zombie someone,” Princess said.

I nodded; all the cabinets were open and empty. 

“Someone has been through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and the bedroom drawers and closets, too,” Rotten said. 

“There are more survivors, and that’s a good thing unless they are the I-want-to-rule-the-world type of survivor.”  Highland opened and shut the drawers set below the kitchen counter. 

We walked through the laundry room to the back door and stepped outside.  The yard was small and unfenced and ended where a pasture, strung with barbed wire, began, and off to the side was an empty chicken house.  “This place has been cleaned out,” Rotten said.  “Let’s move on.” 

We climbed back in the cars, pulled out onto the road, and turned into the next driveway.  The lane leading up to the house was long and dirt and the smell of death hit us in just a few yards.  I glanced over and saw the dead scattered in the yard, which had been hidden from the road behind azalea bushes, and Rotten stopped the Jeep.  “What should I do?” 

“Someone is alive here,” I suggested and heard a rooster crow.  “Guess this is where the chickens from the other house are.  Someone is here.” 

“Looks like they are a pretty good shot, too.  What if they don’t want to be bothered?”  Highland looked at the house.  “There’s a cat in the window.”

“They can’t be all bad if they have a cat, but what if they are dead and the cat is starving?” I knew we’d have to check.

Princess called on the radio.  “What’s going on?”

“Dead zombies behind the bushes, cat in the window, chickens in the yard, we’re trying to figure out what to do,” Rotten replied.

“We have to check on the cat in case it’s starving,” Princess came back.  “And Moon Man says if he gets killed over a cat he’ll never forgive us.”

“Well, let’s see if anyone is there.  We have to, I think.  They may need help or they could be dead, hell, it could be anything, but I think we should check, don’t you?”  He looked at Rotten and me.

“We should check on the cat,” I repeated. 

Rotten pulled forward and stopped about ten yards from the house.  We sat for a minute, unsure what to do, and then climbed out.  “Hello!”  He called out.  “Is anyone here?  We saw the cat.”  He laughed softly and shook his head. 

We waited, heard nothing, and moved closer to the front porch.  The fat orange cat in the window sat up, stretched, and stared at us.  “He doesn’t look like he’s starving,” I said. 

“No, he’s pretty chunky,” Princess agreed.  “But we should make sure, maybe the cat’s been eating a dead body, they do that, you know?”

“Gross, I never understood cat people.  Dog people I get, cat people are just weird,” Moonshine said.  “But we could use those chickens.  Hello!”  He moved toward the gate marking the entrance to the back yard where the chickens could be seen scratching in the grass.

A rifle barrel appeared out of an open window and a husky voice said,  “The cat is fine, and the chickens are mine, go on your way.” 

“Alright, alright,” Moonshine said, holding his gun down and away from his body.  “We aren’t here to hurt you, we just figured everyone here was dead like they are everywhere else.” 

“We’re not dead and we’re not sharing, so go on your way,” the voice replied and it sounded like a young person, perhaps a girl, trying to alter and deepen her voice. 

Princess glanced at me and stepped forward.  “Hey, what’s your name?”

“I want to see.”  We heard a different, younger, voice speak from inside the house.

“No, Sarah! Get away from there!”  The barrel of the gun disappeared inside and at the next window a face with dark curls appeared. 

“They aren’t monsters, they’re just people like us,” the girl said and waved.

We waved back.

“They look nice,” the child said to a person we couldn’t see.

“Looks can be deceiving,” the other voice said, no longer disguised.  “Y’all go on, we have nothing for you.” 

“Well, you might need some friends.”  Princess introduced us.

“She’s a princess,” the little girl said with wide eyes.

“Her name is Princess, her nickname, she’s not a princess.” 

“Well, my name is actually Princess, but your sister is right, I am not a princess, I’m an artist.” 

“Are you guys alone?” Moonshine relaxed his arm and lowered the gun to his side.

“That’s none of your business,” the older voice snapped.

“Yes,” the little girl in the window said, “our parents are dead, Rebekah had to shoot them when they turned into monsters.” 

“Wow, that’s tough.  Sorry to hear that, Rebekah,” Princess said.  “We’ve lost family, but luckily we didn’t have to shoot them.” 

“We’ll leave if you want, we just wanted to make sure you were okay, and the cat was okay,” Highland said.  “We’re staying in a cabin on the river, we have a few more people with us, my mom, an English teacher, and a boy named Will who is twelve.  You’re welcome to come stay with us if you want.”

“No, thank you,” a second face appeared in the window, an older girl with bright red hair.  “We’re fine here.”

“I want to go, Bekah.”

“No, we’re fine.”

“Not always.”  The younger girl turned to look at us.  “She had to kill some more monsters this morning, they’re out there by the driveway.”

“We saw them,” Rotten said.  “If y’all are sure you’re okay, we’ll go on and check on you later or something,” Rotten moved toward the Jeep. 

“No, wait a minute,” Rebekah said and both sisters disappeared from view. 

“How do we know you’re not rapists and thieves like that guy on the radio has been talking about?”  Rebekah stuck her head out the window and looked us up and down.

“We’re not,” Moonshine said, “but I don’t know how to prove that to you.  I mean we’ve taken stuff from some deserted houses, but we sure haven’t raped anyone.” 

“I guess you have to trust us,” Princess said. 

“We stole stuff, too.  Food and chickens and stuff from the Jacob’s house down the road,” Sarah said, sticking her head out the window beside her sister.  “They’re over there by the Camilla bush.”    

“Have y’all seen any deadheads at your place?” Rebekah looked past us to where the bodies lay in the yard.

“No,” I said.  “The cabin is on a dirt road so I guess they don’t come up that way, at least they haven’t yet.  How many have you seen out here?” 

“A bunch.  The ones I killed are still in the yard, I just left them there, I didn’t want to touch them.  There is a bunch in the pasture out back and our parents are on the other side of the house, I didn’t know what to do with them.  I should bury them, but I don’t know how it spreads and I’m all Sarah has now.”  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as a rooster crowed.

“You don’t want to stay here,” I said, finding it impossible to imagine how they must feel surrounded by dead bodies, especially their own parents rotting away beside the house.

“Bekah, the monsters are coming,” Sarah said, her eyes wide.

“Y’all better come in, go to the front door,” Rebekah said and disappeared inside the house.