Swarm (Dead Ends) (11 page)

It took me a while to realize what it was but it finally hit me. This was my breaking point. No one knows when or how it’s going to happen but everyone has that point of no return where their complete disbelief and denial of what has happened makes them go a little crazy. I began to laugh manically as tears streamed down my face. The events of the last few days kept running through my mind: Jim Bob the Undead Trucker, Jane and John Dead, the woman from the bathroom who turned right before my eyes and taught me the importance of lining up my shot, the Twin Terrors in the parking lot, the persistent buzzing hum of some undead army that is probably getting closer as we speak, and now this. The one person I knew who gave me a better chance at survival, blown to pieces because he had no idea what he was walking into. I didn’t know if I could handle it anymore. I contemplated taking my own life right then and there but then I thought of Jane and Zoe. They had probably heard the shot piercing through the silence of the trees and were wondering what was going on. If I didn’t go back now, they might do something stupid and come try and find us. I wiped my eyes and pushed myself to my feet only to hear the familiar cocking of a gun hammer a few feet behind me. I was starting to get disturbingly comfortable with that sound.

“Say somethin’ son or you’re gonna end up like your boyfriend over there” a man’s voice said.

“Uhh… something?” I said, raising my hands into the air and praying that he wasn’t planning on shooting me no matter what I said.

“This here is private property, you know that?” the man said.

“I do know that. And I also know that it’s not your property, it’s the government’s property so why don’t you stop protecting it like you have some right to it.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I cursed them. But somehow I sensed that the whole
pleading for my life
thing wasn’t going to earn me any points with this guy. Luckily it worked.

“Well, I suppose you got that right” he laughed. The tension was immediately cut in half as I heard him lower his weapon and step towards me.

“Sorry about your friend” he said, extending his hand down to help me to my feet. “I was actually just coming down here to get all those weapons for protection.”

“It’s alright” I said, “We’d only known each other for a few days. We were just travelling together for protection. A lot of good that did.” I was trying almost too hard to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. “We’re not here to steal your pot but I wouldn’t complain about a sample or two, given what I’ve been through.”

He laughed and shook my hand, “Name’s Jim but everybody calls me Doc” he said.

“Sam” I said, “Sam Woods.” I didn’t know what good telling him my last name was going to do but this being the first time I had ever cut out the middle man and gone directly to the source for my weed fix, I was a little nervous. “You’re a doctor?” I asked, hoping that maybe he could help Zoe in some way.

“Yup. Studied botany in Canada” he smiled. “Where did you guys come from?”

“Sportsman’s Paradise” I said, “The place is pretty shot up and we didn’t want to stick around for the looters. We’re heading for the coast.”

He shook his head, “Last I heard all the boats have already left. Don’t know how much luck you’ll have. You’re welcome to stay here if you want.”

“Thanks” I said, “Have you heard anything else? Like what the hell is going on?”

“Yeah, there’s a looped broadcast from the CDC and Homeland Security that’s playing on the CB up at the Ranger’s Post…”

“Yeah” I interrupted, “That’s the whole reason we were up here.”

“Well, I could tell ya’ what it says but its best you hear it for yourself” he said, “I don’t want you to think I’m makin’ stuff up. I’ve heard it and I don’t even believe it.”

“Well I believe it, that’s for sure” I said, “I’ve already had to kill a few of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, I ran into a couple of hungry, hungry hikers yesterday. Had to put ‘em down.” A slight smile crept onto his face for the briefest of seconds. He shook it off as he looked to the ground for answers, “It’s a shame. So young.” He nodded towards what was left of Ricky’s body, “That crossbow he’s got. Since you already got one, would you be willing to trade his for this?” he asked, holding up a full size machete with a stylish wooden handle complete with finger grooves. “I’ve got plenty of guns but I need somethin’ that doesn’t make so much damn noise. It’s razor sharp too. You could shave your face with this thing. You wouldn’t want to but you could.”

Not even five minutes since his death, and we were already bartering for Ricky’s belongings. I wanted to say no but I didn’t want to offend someone who could possibly be an ally. Also, I can’t really explain it but the sight of that machete almost gave me a hard-on. It was beautiful, like the weapon was made for me. The vision that kept running through my head was a weird version of the Sword and the Stone where I was somehow the only person who could pull this magnificent weapon from the petrified head of some undead statue. Clearly, I needed that weapon in my hands immediately. I agreed to the trade but hid the fact that I was as excited about it. The fact that I felt excited at all given what had just happened filled me with guilt to be sure but Ricky was dead and there was nothing I could do to change that. I had to move on and hope that the same thing doesn’t happen to me. Or that it does. I suppose I’d take either outcome at this point but the two girls waiting back in the Jeep made it so the decision to live narrowly outweighed the decision to die.

Doc led me back to his camp, only a short distance from the field. He had disabled the weapons in the field as well as killed the rattlesnakes, which he referred to as “dinner.” I felt weird about leaving Ricky’s body there but Doc insisted that the undead don’t care about people who are already dead. They like fresh meat. I wasn’t ready to tell him about Jane and Zoe yet so the fact that the field was now death-trap free put me at ease a little bit. We chatted on the way back. Small talk about things that will probably never matter again. His grown daughter is living safely with her family on a small goat farm on Lopez Island. The last time he talked to her there was no undead activity on the island but the residents had banded together to protect the shores from any unwanted visitors. Now that the phone lines were down, all he could do was hope that she would be ok. Admittedly, I was only half listening, most of my focus reserved for my sharp new toy. I transferred it from hand to hand, getting used to the weight of it, admiring it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for a boy’s first baseball glove.

The camp was nothing special. I would’ve kept walking straight through it if Doc hadn’t told me this was it. Marijuana growers – the good ones anyway – know how to blend in. It was in a small clearing surrounded by trees in kind of a circular ring. Many of the trees had ladders leaned against them I’m assuming as a means of quick escape if a zombie were to stumble into the mix. In the fire pit, embers still warm from the fire gave off their last bits of life, sputtering and hissing to a quiet end. There were plenty of backpacks and garbage bags hanging from some of the lower tree branches. I didn’t see a tent anywhere, which was strange but I wasn’t in a position to pry.

We sat down by the fire pit and I watched as he began to skin the snakes. I looked over at a pot sitting on a pedestal at the side of the fire.

“Is that coffee?”

“Help yourself” he said, laughing. “Caffeine withdrawal is a bitch, isn’t it?”

“You got that right” I said, grabbing a cup and filling it to the brim. It was steaming hot and I could tell from the smell that it was good and strong, just the way I like it. The first long drink was like heaven. My mind perked up immediately and I became much more cognizant of my surroundings. I couldn’t imagine how I’d survived up to this point without being as hyper aware as I was right now. It was exhilarating.

“You wanna Irish it up a bit?” he said, taking a flask from his inner jacket pocket.

“Don’t mind if I do” I said, “I could use the pain relief right now.”

“Yeah, you look like you’ve seen better days.”

“Yeah well, almost getting run over by a semi-truck and then getting attacked by the zombified driver of that same truck will definitely put a few bags under your eyes to say the least” I said.

I took another drink of coffee. And then another. The whiskey was cheap but strong and when it started to kick in, I began feeling guilty about not telling Doc about Jane and Zoe, especially since he had been so open about his daughter.

“Look” I said, “I haven’t been completely truthful with you…”

His eyes squinted as he looked at me, or at least I thought he was looking at me. He put his hand up as his gaze fixated on something in the distance over my right shoulder. I heard the crackling of a few small twigs and turned around to find the origin of this break in silence. I saw a figure in the shade of one of the trees.

“The ladders!” Doc shouted as he threaded his arm through the crossbow I had traded to him and rested it on his shoulder.

“Wait!” I said, thinking that Jane and Zoe had come to look for us. “I think it might be my friends.” I gripped my new machete tightly all the same.

We both stopped momentarily and stared as the figure slowly made her way into the light. It wasn’t Jane. It was a woman shuffling slowly towards us, her scalp torn off and a dagger sticking out of her right shoulder. One of her feet dragged behind, barely hanging onto the one tendon that hadn’t been severed. Her ankle bone made a pock mark in the soil with every step. At this pace, it would take her at least 5 minutes to get to us.

I looked down at the machete, thinking this would be a perfect time for a practice kill, just to get used to it without much risk. That’s when I saw two more zombies trot out of the bush. They were fully mobile and coming right for us. It almost felt like they used the gimp to lure us in and let our guard down. I didn’t think they were capable of it but the thought alone sent a chill down my spine. Doc ran for the ladder that rested furthest away from our new undead hunters while I panicked and stupidly went for the ladder that was closest to me but also closest to them. I thought for sure they’d both go for me but they split up. The one that came after me looked like he’d been a football player in the recent past, like maybe a week ago. He was on me as I got to the base of the ladder. I gripped the machete hard and swung at his head, completely lopping off his jaw and leaving a deep gash in his neck, which slowed him down enough for me to shimmy up the ladder and get onto a thick branch that had no problem supporting my weight. He smashed into the ladder and knocked it over as he moaned and growled - the first time I had heard one of them growl like this. I rolled my eyes thinking that even I would have secured the ladders to the trees somehow to avoid this very thing from happening. I’m surprised Doc hadn’t thought of that. Then I remembered Doc. Did he get up the ladder in time or did he have to fight his way through?

“Doc! You alright?” I shouted towards the tree that he should be in right now. I didn’t have a completely clear view but I could see the zombie at the base of Doc’s ladder, in a full Forest Ranger uniform complete with the huge hat and everything, just milling around maybe waiting for Doc to fall out of the tree or something. I suppose that’s a good sign.

“Yeah” he said with a labored voice, “I’m good.”

I looked down at my zombie still struggling to untangle himself from the fallen ladder. I couldn’t get a clean shot with the crossbow until he got up so I focused my attention on the gimp who had managed to make it another 5 feet at the most. I lodged the machete into the tree since I hadn’t gotten around to putting on the sheath that it was supposed to be carried in. Doc was right, that thing was sharp as hell. It sliced through the bark with ease. I took the time to line up my shot, trying to drown out the moans of the growling undead linebacker that was going to be a really big problem in a minute or two. I aimed, fired, and once again, fucking missed. I really need to get some practice time in with this thing. The arrow whizzed past her left ear, brushing aside what little hair she had left on the side of her head. She looked to her left where the arrow had zoomed past, then to her right as if someone had tapped her on the shoulder from the opposite side as a trick. Another strange example of the undead still clinging onto some form of muscle memory from when they were still alive. I shook my head as I loaded another arrow, the
last
arrow I told myself, that I would waste on Gimp Girl. I rested the crossbow on my left forearm this time, hoping for some added stability. Amazingly the second shot was even more off target than the first, impaling her left breast right where her nipple should be, almost as if that’s what I were aiming at. Maybe I was I have no idea.

I didn’t have time to waste another arrow on her though as the undead linebacker quickly steadied himself and prepared to go on the offensive. I knew he couldn’t hurt me from up here but I also knew there was no way in hell I was going down there if that big son of a bitch was still shuffling around. I readied another arrow thinking there’s no way I could miss him from point blank range like this but then he shuffled directly under the branch I was on and looked up at me. The huge gash I had sliced into his neck allowed him to hinge his head up in a creepily unnatural position that reminded me of an owl, only it hinged vertically instead of horizontally. And I swear I could see all the way down into his stomach. I could tell from the angle that it would be impossible to aim and fire my weapon without losing my balance and I wasn’t going to just spray and pray. I hadn’t been able to hit a target that I was actually aiming at so hitting one with nothing more than blind luck as my guide seemed a little out of the question. I looked over at Doc’s zombie again. It was still just shuffling around and groaning towards Doc’s position in the tree. I have no idea why Doc hadn’t shot it yet but I had my own problems to worry about.

After confirming that Gimp Girl wasn’t going to be a threat until at least nightfall, I secured the crossbow on my back and glanced over at the machete. Sitting in this tree reminded me of being a kid and filling up water balloons to torment my older sister with. I used to perch myself on the edge of the roof and wait for her to come outside where I’d hold the water balloon out with one hand and close one eye to get the aim just right. Once I got it situated directly over her head, I’d let it fly, wait long enough to witness the hilarity and then run for my life. It’s probably one of the reasons we rarely talk anymore. I figured it was worth a shot. I gripped the machete with my left hand and slithered out further onto the branch so I was directly above him. He began to snarl even louder, perhaps thinking his next meal was going to fall right into his lap. I had to keep peeking my head around both sides of the branch to get my aim just right and when I was confident, I held the very tip of the handle with my thumb and forefinger, said a prayer and calmly let go. My balance waivered slightly so I didn’t get to witness the money shot but I heard a squishy sound followed by a thump that hopefully meant good news. The groaning had stopped and I was able to lean over to one side and see that I had hit him dead center in the middle of the head. The razor sharp blade had gone all the way through and impaled into the ground leaving the corpse resting on its back with its head slightly propped up and the handle protruding out of its forehead.