The Death Doll (12 page)

She realized what Sean failed to in suggesting Xing’s reawakening.  Even after all she had seen up to now, there was no way to cheat death; it was coming for everyone.  The only one who came close faced an existence where everyone she could ever care for would die around her; where the only pleasure she could feel would be in destroying lives.  Yet, in the face of doubt and mutiny, this Death Doll was dedicated to protecting life.  Even the temptation to bring Adam back when Cody first described his brain-waking device died away.  She would never wish such suffering on her son, or anyone else.

God has a life beyond death
, she reckoned. 
We have no business trying to do it ourselves.
 

Didi cased her sword and faced Paula. “Now, let’s go find Rachelle.”

Paula turned to follow Didi out of the Clinic, which was when she noticed a crowd had gathered outside the door.  They all silently made way for the dead matron, but no one looked as disarmed as Paula.  She ran past them and caught up to Didi, praying no harm came to that girl.

*****

Isaac busted into the fourth unfamiliar room in this maze of a compound and tripped on something.  The ground was matted, so it wasn’t the garage.  Too spacious for a closet, so there had to be a light switch somewhere.  He cursed himself for sneaking to the nearest door rather than just walking his ass right out any of the other ones.  He stood and fumbled along the walls until he hit a switch. 

The lights shone on mirrors around a bunch of exercise equipment.  The room itself wasn’t all that big, but the dead bitch—
a fucking face-muncher, for God’s sake
—had filled it with weight machines and treadmills like no one’s business and still had enough room for some kind of aerobics area.  He guessed it was aerobics with all the adjoined mats and the stereo in a nearby corner.  And he thought everyone was so skinny because of the rationing.

“Go away,” a voice squeaked somewhere.  It sounded like the face-muncher’s little tagalong.

He made his way around half the equipment before he found Rachelle hugging her knees behind a rack full of wooden swords and sticks.  Tears glistened down her cheeks, but her eyes stubbornly focused on the floor. She was mad, or hurt.  Not his problem.  “I’m just trying to get out of here.”

She pointed behind him without looking at him.  “The street’s over there.” 

He looked over his shoulder and spotted the door, which had a thick wooden beam through latches on both sides.  He nearly headed for it, but her sobbing kept his attention, and he couldn’t help wondering why.  “How come you’re hiding out in here?”

“None of your business,” she snapped, then sobbed some more.

He headed for the door again, but couldn’t take more than two steps.  He thought of how that face-muncher left the garage door open for her rotten buddies to come in and eat everyone; the door
he
had to close to keep that from happening.  Sure, he could just shut this door behind himself and Little Miss Moody could bar it herself, but she didn’t look like she cared enough.  What was she so sad about when she should be terrified of that face-muncher?  “Did you hear about Didi?”

The kid sniffled.  “What about her?”

“She’s a face-muncher.”

The way she glared up at him made him want to slap her.  “How did you find out?”

He flinched.  “A few minutes ago when Paula put three in her chest.  You knew?”

“She just told me in the truck.  Does everybody know now?”

“Yeah,” he said to play along.  “Why ain’t you getting the hell out to here?”

She looked back down.  “She saved my life.  Treated me better than any of those living assholes out there.”

Isaac knew that mentality well, but not for a face-muncher.  “How come you’re all pissed off?”

“‘Cuz she didn’t tell me from the start.  She kept me in the dark for two years.”

He wanted to laugh at her lack of priorities.  “That’s what you’re all butt-hurt about?”

She shot up to her feet so fast, she looked like she jumped to start shouting.

The door Isaac came in opened.  The big bad zombie queen walked in with her pet soldier, followed closely by Paula and Sean.  The dead stiff stopped and smiled at Rachelle.  The living stiff saw the kid and sighed heavily.  The husband barely knew what was going on.

Rachelle crossed her arms at Didi.  “I thought you said I could have a few days to myself.”

“Lot’s happened since,” Didi replied as she approached the surly kid.  “Pat killed Xi Xing and ran off.”

Rachelle’s mouth fell open for a moment, then she nodded at Paula.  “I heard she shot you.”

Didi smiled at Paula, then waved her off.  “Yeah, but we’re kind of cool now.”

Rachelle frowned like she didn’t buy it.

“I want to give you more time, but we’ve got things to do.  I could really use your help,” Didi added while offering a gloved hand. Isaac hadn’t realized how much of the face-muncher’s skin was covered—all but her face and some of her flat chest.  Even her neck was blocked off by a big choker.  This chick was all about protection, especially from her.  “What do you say?”

Rachelle nodded.

The smirking dead looked at Isaac.  “Would you mind giving us a hand, too?”

Isaac thought it over.  She was a zombie, but a fiercely loyal one who looked after her friends, even against the threat of a camp mutiny.  He didn’t imagine she would ever consider
him
a friend—Lord knew he wouldn’t see her that way—but there was an advantage to having a zombie watching his ass without trying to bite it.  Playing along a little further, he nodded.

Didi led Rachelle out and they chatted about some shit or other, the dead with her arm around the kid like she was her big sister. 

Paula followed them like a chaperone, but she didn’t look all mad.  Sean just followed.

Whatever her deal, he had to respect the Death Doll.  For now.

*****

Didi carried the blanket-wrapped body of Xi Xing through the Courtyard and gently set it onto the funeral pyre in the middle.  She said a quick prayer for her fallen charge, crossed herself, and stepped back to let the camp say their final goodbyes in their own ways. 

Cody, Rachelle, Isaac, and the Panel lit the pyre together.  Craig placed a consoling hand on Jerri’s shoulder and she accepted it with a bittersweet smile.

Cody said a few words of the great service Xing provided the camp.  Hashim provided a humorous anecdote that made Xing look like a hero in an odd moment.  Gilda followed with some kind words, Craig gave an encouraging speech, Bob kept things simple with how much Xing would be missed, and Jerri concluded things with a tearful yet loving farewell capped off by a short Chinese poem.  Paula stared at the burning body, accepting her husband’s embrace but barely giving anything.  Pepe held Dawn, who cried softly into his shoulder.  Isaac stared silently, not quite as distant as one would expect given how uncomfortable he was here most times.  Everyone filed past Jerri and offered their condolences—some with hugs, others with handshakes—and went back inside.  Jerri handled it all like a champion.  Near the end of the line, Clarissa gave Jerri a tearful hug and heartfelt commiseration.  The rest of the Panel stayed with Jerri until the fire burned out.

Sadness and fury boiled in Didi’s brain, making her want to cry or scream.  Death robbed her of the former and the latter would have upset the crowd, so she stood silently and hoped to find Pat again someday—or, better yet, the son of a bitch who sent him.

*****

Pat smiled gratefully as he entered his leader’s stylish yet cozy home; Paradise in its finely decorated glory.  The sunset hues seeping in from the windows gave the plush beige furniture, dark wooden walls, and sleek black fixtures a rich tone that seemed sophisticated yet homey.  The latest in appliances—liberated from vacant shops along their travels—fit right in wherever they stood.  The glowing bar made rows of wine and liquor glasses sparkle. 

A burly hand plucked two of those glasses from their homes and filled them with genuine Alabama whiskey.  Pat received one of the drinks and thanked his generous host.

“You’re welcome,” the smooth, husky voice of his leader said with his drink raised.  They clinked glasses and took a healthy snort, savoring it in silence for a spell.  The muscular giant took Pat’s glass, placed both in the black porcelain sink, and offered a seat. 

Pat took a load off on one of the most comfortable chairs he’d ever sat in, sighing contentedly.  “Now this is living.”

“Especially in a world full of corpses.  Am I right?”

Both men laughed.

The big boss leaned his head upon his fingers, which traced the scar running down the side of his head. “Now, tell me more about this porn star’s compound.”

ADJUSTMENT

Sabbath, a day of rest and reflection.  Hardly practical to observe when facing a potential invasion, but everyone needed a little space from the big bad Death Doll.  Besides, they were all focusing on their jobs—even despite the one day off a week she gave them, something she stopped being sore about long ago.  To further accommodate them, she asked her Lord’s forgiveness and convinced Cody to make an extra supply run.  She was happy when he agreed, but needed to let him to start his day first.  She did bring it up at three in the morning. 

After accompanying him on his morning run, she loitered in his room—which he always insisted was
their
room—while he showered, dressed, and ate.  She sat on his bed and scanned his bare walls, wishing for the seven millionth time he would decorate the place.  She stopped asking why he didn’t because he always blew off the question with not needing anything.  She wondered if he had been avoiding reminders of the old world or his time alone before they met.  She still caught him staring at that old picture in his wallet once in a while, but with nothing she could do about it, it was a wound best left to him to mend on his own.

Cody entered and plopped directly into his desk chair with an accomplished smile.  “Morning, dear,” he joked.

“What took you so long?”

“I had some energy to burn, so I loaded the truck.”

She frowned.  “I would’ve helped.”

He flashed her a guilty grin and shrugged.  “Sorry.  I also checked on the Sunny Skies.  So far, nothing resembles a gang coming at us yet.  Bob hid a few weapons up there, just in case.  Are we taking Rachelle again?”

Her eyes fell, and she leaned against the wall.  “Sure.”

After a moment of silence, he sat on the bed next to her.  “You need to vent.  Go ahead.”

He knew her too well.  She laid out her guilt for losing Xi Xing, her fear of an uprising in the camp, and her concerns over what kind of group Pat ran with. 

He just smirked at her and said, “How do you sleep at night?  Oh, wait.”

Didi smacked his arm, but she couldn’t help laughing.  He was always good at lightening her mood.

He patted her leg, which she wished she could’ve felt.  “I’m not going to beat to death how much of Xi Xing’s death
wasn’t
your fault, and I can’t speak for whatever gang Pat’s part of, but as far as the camp situation I can suggest something that was recently brought up.”

She smiled with hope.  “What’s that?”

“Instead of escaping, why not get out more?”

Her smile disappeared. 

“I’m serious.  The secret’s out now, so go talk to people.  Let them get to know the real you.”

She was too nervous to do that, so she dodged.  “But the trip?”

He waved her off.  “It can wait for a couple of hours.  You should do this.”

Having no better arguments really annoyed her, so she opted for the truth.  “I’m afraid.”

He put an arm around her and smiled.  She was so glad she couldn’t smell him—her pounding hunger was hard enough to ignore—but wished she could’ve felt him.  “They’re more scared of you, you know,” he said.

“Which is why I’m afraid.  You know how dangerous frightened people are.” 

“They’ve had time to cool off.”

“I drew down on them.”

He smiled.  “And you honored one of them, too.  After all that you’ve done for them, you deserve a real chance, but you’ve got to give them one, too.”

She crossed her arms and pretended to pout.  “There you go making sense on me.”

He smiled as he patted her shoulder, slipped off the bed, and headed for the door. “Besides, you’re better armed.  I like your chances better than all of theirs.”

He almost had her up until then, but she gave it a shot anyway.

Her first stop was the Sunny Skies, but everyone was in the middle of a harvest, so they paid her little mind.  Maybe they were ignoring her, but it was hard to tell.  Bob was sweet enough to give her a brief conversation and an update on the horizons before asking to get back to work.  Having known the kindly Sioux since the road—and seeing him direct his crew with barely any pause—she knew he wasn’t trying to blow her off.  It wasn’t a total waste; it gave her a chance to notice a few boneheads loitering around the walls. 

Didi slipped down to the street, grabbed the boneheads’ attention, and led them a few blocks away.  She cut them down in an intersection, where she piled and burned them.  Easy stuff.  She never gave this routine a second thought, but this time, she found herself staring at the faces of Xing, Craig, Rachelle, and Cody in the flames.  She tried to look away, but her head swam with loss and fear.  She never really spent any time with Xing—or anyone but Cody, for that matter.  Trying to keep them all safe, she made things worse.  When she finally tore her eyes from the burning bodies, she realized how right Cody was to suggest this social errand.  If she were alive, she would’ve sighed.  Instead, she pursed her lips and went back … home.

She took a dip in her private shower, her euphemism for a sponge bath from a small rain bucket she had to boil after each use.  She got dolled up in Mary Kay’s finest concealers, donned a non-threatening blouse and pair of jeans, and wandered back inside.

The kitchen bustled with activity as Hashim led his little team in canning their latest harvest.  She leaned in the doorway and watched beefy Jeremy and redheaded Megan shuck corn.  The often spunky Leticia seemed mesmerized by the jelly she stirred, its flavor a complete mystery to Didi.  Homely brunette Lydia was all business chopping carrots with that snarky little shit Jake, who hacked at his lot like they insulted his mom—until he noticed Didi in the doorway.  Then
everyone
noticed her.  The kids gawked like she was about to put them on her menu.  Hashim tried to alleviate the tension with a warm welcome, but Jake got all pissy and insisted she leave, lest her “dead germs contaminate the food.”  Right or not, he acted like his usual asshole self; even going so far as to stare her down, like that knife he white-knuckled would protect him.  Just to spite him, she snapped her teeth at him.  He ran off like a little pussy.  She had to laugh.  Hashim laughed, too, but he politely reminded her how good an idea it was for her to leave.  He was always such a nice man; even the first day he laid eyes on her rotten face when she liberated him from his own restaurant in Rockford.  Bob and Craig both tried to kill her when they first saw her, but Hashim quickly appreciated who or whatever saved his life.  He was a real gem.

She wandered up to the School Room, hoping she would have more luck with the younger crowd.  As she approached the door, she heard Clarissa reading a Shel Silverstein poem about a monster.  Didi leaned against the doorway and listened as the poem got to the good part—until Clarissa noticed Didi and stopped reading.  The children gaped like Didi was oozing or something.  Paula and Jerri greeted her, but Clarissa eyed her baby in a playpen across the room.  She took that as her cue to leave.  It was awkward but still better than the kitchen. 

She needed a break and a few Good Words. After all, it was the Sabbath.

*****

Isaac wiped his head with his forearm, which was like cleaning up puke with a baby wipe.  He knew Craig was lying his ass off about getting used to the Power; no one down there ever got used to that unbearable smell and the heat.  He wandered the halls to cool off, but the warm air blasted all the time with the temperatures outside dropping, and he wasn’t about to go out there unless he absolutely had to.  The face-munchers out there never stopped coming around, and he wasn’t stupid enough to go out there alone again—even if one of them was running this place.  At least this one wasn’t trying to bite his ass, but if she malfunctioned or whatever he would definitely have something for her—it—
whatever
.

Still, he didn’t like being the labor force here.  Sure, most of the others on his crew were whiter than the snow that would soon fall, but he wanted more than to be someone’s strong back.  That was the leaf he turned when he got out of prison.  He would matter, and it was hard to see how he mattered sweating his ass off in a cave full of zombies.  Nobody needed him here if their face-munching boss wasn’t going to eat any of them.  Despite the tension in the air, everyone went back to business as usual after that dude Xing’s funeral.  He saw no purpose being here.

He also saw no use for the little room he had just wandered into.  He recognized its stale white pallor and the three rows of couches from the day he came out of Isolation.  A couple of potted trees against the walls surrounded a simple wooden podium up front.  A counter on the opposite side of the room had a little computer station, which was wired to a projector mounted on the ceiling, which seemed redundant with two working theaters on this block.  “What’s this fucking room for?” he mused aloud.

“It used to be a pharmacy,” Didi’s voice answered, startling him.  He looked around until he noticed sneakers poking out from behind one of the trees.  “I turned it into a chapel.”

He slowly approached to get a better look at her, ready for anything despite being empty-handed.  “Y’all have church services or something?”

“I used to, but people stopped coming.” He found her reading a small black booklet through some thick, horn-rimmed glasses, the rest of her dressed in blue jeans and a loose white blouse. 

He wanted to laugh at her attempt to be all non-threatening.  Instead, he stopped near the podium.  “After seeing how you run things, I’m surprised you gave them a choice.”

“You don’t force people to believe something.  They have to do it on their own.”

Now, he had to laugh.  “That’s a first.  Why read that shit, anyway?  Don’t all the shit we’ve seen out there make that book wrong?”

“That’s just where faith comes in,” she said nonchalantly, then grinned up at him.  “I’ve read this book from cover to cover, and I haven’t seen anything about the dead rising to eat the living, so I’m inclined to believe you’ve all still got a chance.  Besides, God repeatedly says in it that there’ll always be a remnant of His people.”

“What kind of God lets this shit happen?” he asked as he leaned against the podium.

“What kind of parent lets their kids get bitten by their puppy after telling them over and over not to pester it?” she replied with a slick grin.  “This book would save them from all that pain if they would follow it, but some people can only learn the hard way.”

Isaac snickered.  “It’s a trip to hear a face-muncher thumping a Bible.  You going to convert me or something?”

She shrugged and dove back into her book.  “Believe what you want, man.  You will anyway.”

He was surprised to hear such a relaxed attitude from a Jesus freak, dead or alive.  He usually found religious types to be pushy, but this chick?  Very chill.  It was too weird.  He wondered what else she believed.  “So, do you think your soul went to Heaven or something?”

“Probably Hell after the way I lived, but I like to think it’s still here in this stuffed shell.”

“Why’s that?”

She let her book hang between her legs.  “There’s a passage in Revelation Six that talks about the souls of those slain in Christ’s name.  They were given white robes and asked to wait under an altar until God finished wiping out the rest of the world.  I like to think those souls go straight to Heaven.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said to be agreeable.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not a word,” he admitted, and they both laughed.

“Anyway, if those souls were still on Earth, why shouldn’t mine be?” she asked with a shrug.

Isaac nodded, even though the whole thing sounded too hokey to make any sense.

“Maybe I’m already damned, but I’m still here,” she rattled her little Bible up by her face, “and this has been the only thing since I died that’s made any sense to me.”

“Maybe I oughta crack that thing open some time,” he said, even if he didn’t really mean it.

Didi smiled wider and tossed him her Bible.  “Have at it.”

He fumbled to catch it as she stood and walked out of the room, leaving him to stare at the little book of many mysteries. 

“Hey,” Didi said from the door.  “Why didn’t you leave when I gave you the truck?”

He did not want to answer that question, but that freaky gaze of hers insisted.  He had to give her something to make it go away.  “You left the door open and took the remote.  I ain’t going to be responsible for getting all these people killed.  Not after losing my brother.”

“What happened to him?” she asked, looking all concerned.

“What you think happened?” he about snapped, but that piercing gaze of hers wasn’t letting him off that easy.  “They got stupid and tried to move in on Jackson Park.”

Didi frowned.  “Didn’t the Coastline Killers take it over?”

“Uh huh,” he said.

She looked like she understood what he implied—what he tried telling his dumbass little brother: the Coastline Killers were dug in and too well-armed to take on.  “You went with him?”

He nodded.  “He was my little brother.  I had to look after him.”