The Great Wreck (47 page)

“I
lay there on the hot baking asphalt road listening to the shuffling getting
closer, the rot filling my nose. But all was not lost. Did I tell you that god
had given me a mission? To kill you? I did. So, here I am baking myself on the
road waiting to become an entrée when I raise my weary head and what do I see?
Right you are; a rest stop. Well let me tell you old son, I was filled with a
bolt of energy that got my skinny ass up and hobbling towards that oasis. But
the dead pride parade was close and when they saw me standing up, they got all
excited and started moaning and howling even more and shifted their shuffle
into high gear. I want you to picture this little buddy: old cripples racing.
That’s right. It was a race to see if the dead would get me, or I would get to
the rest stop.

“Turns
out I won! Yes sir! First prize! I got there about thirty seconds before the
first wave of dead got there. Just enough time for me to shimmy up a drain
spout like our friend the spider and toss my body onto the roof. Oh, the dead
were disappointed. They stayed around that shitter for three days before
finally giving up and moving on.

“After
I recovered a bit, I crawled over to the shitter’s skylight and peeked in:
empty by god. I wiggled in there and dropped into that blessed coolness and
soaked it in. But man was I thirsty. I nearly cried with joy as I stumbled over
to the sink and turn on that water faucet. I could almost taste that water, I
got ready for it to pour out into my waiting hands and then…nothing! No water
pressure! I wept. Quietly, to be sure. I didn’t want my buddies outside to
start banging down the door. I tried the other sinks. Nothing! The whole
fucking place was bone dry. Dry that is, except the toilets. Oh, yes, the
toilets had water in them. A few gallons of glorious shitwater just waiting for
me to plunge my head in. Good thing I hadn’t eaten in days or I might have
dropped a big old crap in my only water supply before realizing the rest stop had
no running water.

“You
might think I hesitated. You might think I considered that every conceivable
bacteria, fungus, virus, and disease had passed through someone’s
ass
and into that bowl where my life
saving water was.

“You’d
be wrong. I drank until I was fit to burst then I drank some more. And it
tasted just like you’d expect shitwater to taste like. I lay there of the floor
trying not to vomit up the water I had just drank, then fell asleep. I woke up
feeling so much better but still on fire with thirst. So I drank another load
of shitwater cursing you with every gulp, then I climbed up out the skylight
and had myself a look around.

“Holy.
Fucking. Confucius. The dead that had raced me to the rest stop? They had been
joined by like every fucking dead stiff in the entire southwest, Mexico, and
goddam South America. It was wall to wall dead in all directions. I could see
my gear on the road a few yards away. My guns, my food. It might as well have
been on the moon. So I had to sit there and watch the dead slowly drifting by
and wait for a break or at least an opening of dead and hope it happened before
I starved to death.

“It
took
four days
. Four days of watching
those pricks kick my crap around until finally, one morning I woke up and there
were only a handful of dead walking north. I was patient. I waited until they
were a mile away and no more were heading up from the south. Then I scrambled
down the side of the shitter and ran to my stuff. I pulled open a can of hash
and, oh glory! Scooped out that half congealed gunk they pretend is meat and
shoved nearly the entire thing in my mouth. Then I pulled out some soup and
guzzled it down. A feast of friends I fucking tell you! All the time keeping an
eye out for the mob to return. And you know what, Sunny Jim? They did. After I
had eaten my fill and packed my shit back up, I looked back to the south and I
could see them coming over the horizon, but this time it was more than just a
parade, it was a fucking invasion. But I kept my spirits up! I filled my water
pack and canteens just as full of shitwater as they could carry, said goodbye
to that rest stop, and I moved north again.

But I knew that
I’d eventually catch up to the first wave of dead. What to do?
What
to
do
? First, I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’m smart, yessir,
a certifiable genius in cowboy boots! Yeehaw! And when I was laying on that
godforsaken molten asphalt with the dead closing in on me, I noticed a thing or
two about ‘em; they liked to stick to the road. Yes, sir, they stuck right to
I-25 like shit to your shoe. There were hardly any on the frontage roads and
there were almost none of the side ones. So I got out my trusty map, found me a
dirt road that ran north and away I went. And like magic, I moved north quicker
than shit.

“So
here I am bubba, just about right up your ass I’d say since I could hear you
jawing with that sweet piece of tail up on the mountain. Five miles? Ten miles?
Doesn’t matter cause here’s the plan: I’m gonna find you. I’m gonna show you
everything you want to know about what I was up to starting with your dead
girlfriend Pix. Then I think I’ll cut off one of your feet so you can’t sneak
out on me again. Then we’ll head back south to a place I’ve got all set up
where I believe you will meet god. But before you do, and I mean just before
you do, I have some old friends I want you to see. Then you can meet god, and
then your eternal miserable life as a dead pet begins. Yes! Fun, games, and
party like it’s…well.. what the fuck year is it anyway? Whatever. So, see you
real soon, boss.”

James
went silent and the sound of static filled the air inside the plane. Then, as
though he had left the broadcast button on, I heard him say, “I gotta take a
shit. I wonder if the toilet works here?” then silence.

I
stayed frozen over that radio unable to think. Unable to move. Had my bladder
not been empty already I would have pissed myself. James had found me. He
wasn’t here in the plane but he was so close that it didn’t matter. If I ran
now, he’d spot me with night goggles or the dead infested streets would get me.
If I waited until morning, he spot me moving along I-40, cut off my foot, and
drag me south. Back to Las Cruces where he had killed Marti. Back to Phoenix
where he had killed Kailee. Maybe all the way back to Los Angeles where he had
killed Pix. The last few months of surviving, all the pain, all the suffering
to make it this far for nothing. I felt a small burst of anger in my chest
swell to a flood of rage.

The
paralysis broke and I pressed down on the talk button on my radio, “Come and
get me mother fucker,” I said.

I
twisted the nob to shut it off but before I could, I heard James slip in one
last word, “Fuck…!” and then the click as I cut him off. I wasn’t going to sit
here and wait for that fucker to find me but I wasn’t going to run off into the
night and get myself killed either. I had made it this far. I was going to make
it to Sandia.

So
I got up and got dressed, opened the door of the airplane, and stumbled around
like the dead until I made it to my gear. If any of the dead saw me, they were
too far gone to figure out I was alive. If any sprinter happened by, well, I’d
deal with it then.

I
picked up my bike and stumbled back over to the airplane, then tossed my gear
inside. I topped my pack off with food and water, repacked all my weapons and
ammunition, cleaned the guns, and waited until the pre-dawn began to lighten
the sky over the mountains in the east.

As
soon as I could see a little light, I broke out of the plane, sealed it back up
for the next survivors and headed toward I-40 but when I reached the onramp I
just kept on going moving north along Eubank deep into the Albuquerque suburbs.
The dead were still out in force but I could see them clearly and could avoid them.

It
was far riskier than heading west on I-40 to the I-25 interchange but I had
studied the map all night and decided that I would shave off a few miles by
heading directly north and James would have a much harder time finding me off
the main highways. So I moved quickly through the burnt out areas of
Albuquerque, dodged the ever increasing number of dead staying out of their
sight, detouring around the weird ones with the radar in their heads, and
steadily made my way towards the Sandia entrance.

When
my watch said 0800, I turned on the radio and put one earbud in. As I did I
heard the end of the last broadcast, “….stay indoors! Again, if you are
receiving this broadcast in one of the safe houses or are already inside we
urge you to stay indoors! If you are out on the streets, seek shelter
immediately! Waves of dead are pouring in from I-40 east, I-40 west, and I-25
south!” I could hear the panic in the announcer’s voice as he continued, “My
god I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks like they are storming the
fences…” and then the broadcast shut off.

I looked around
but could not see the incoming waves of dead yet but I knew they’d be here
soon. I was too well conditioned to freeze up and panic on the street so I
began looking for a rooftop to climb on and wait out the flood of dead. I
spotted a three story fire station and strangely, the top was fenced in.
Perfect. I didn’t bother going in and finding the stairs, I just climbed up the
side, then over the fence and onto the safety of the rooftop. I quickly set up,
then covered my small camp thinking I might be there a few days. I pulled out
my binoculars and started scanning the area first from where I had come looking
for James tracking me down, then looking for the waves of dead pouring into
Albuquerque.

There
was no sign of James behind me and to the east or west, and south nothing but
endless streams of the dead all moving into the city. James would be holed up
somewhere no doubt and I certainly wasn’t lucky enough for James to have been
caught in the dead waves. So I huddled down at the edge of the fire station’s
roof and watched for the next few hours as the dead streamed by on their way to
wherever they were going. I kept one earbud plugged in so I could listen to
Sandia if they began broadcasting but for the next two hours there was nothing.
I dozed lightly as the sun climbed up into the morning sky but jolted awake
when I heard Greer’s voice on the radio.

“Thomas,
if you can hear me do not respond,” she said, “We listened to that freak fucker
who was talking to you last night and our guys here think he probably can track
your radio signal. He got into the B-52 safe haven around eight o’clock this
morning.” I felt my heart racing and my breath coming in shallow gulps. Eight
o’clock. How long after I had left? An hour? Two tops? Holy fuck.

Greer
continued, “I hope you’re OK. I tried to call you at seven this morning to let
you know to stay put, to tell you about what we are seeing from up here. That’s
when we heard him on the radio and he let us know you were dead, that he had
taken care of you and didn’t need to worry my pretty little head about you
anymore,” she said crying a bit, “But he’s so stupid and started cursing a blue
streak that he’d get you and make you wish you were dead, blah, blah, blah.”
Greer then giggled a little, sniffed, then continued, “It’s suicide to be out
on the streets so wherever you are just stay put. Once this is over, we’ll come
and get you, Thomas. I promise.” She said and signed off.

I
had no sooner set the radio down when James come on, “Ain’t that sweet darling.
We’ll let me tell you what. I’m all snuggled up tight as a bug in a rug in your
little airplane safe house watching the dead just drift on by so don’t you
worry yourself about me. I am as safe as vanilla. And when I find that tiny dog
wanker and cut him up into little pieces, I might just pay you a visit. And,
boy? If you’re listening, and I think you are,” he said directing his attention
back to me,” Let me play you a little something special from your friend Pix,”
And he did.

Over
the radio I heard James click on a tape player and I heard he and Pix having
sex. She came, crying out, “Fuck, James harder! Harder!”

“Yeah
you like it rough, don’t ya sweetie,” James said on the recording, “Well, it’s
about to get a whole lot rougher,” he said and I could hear him slapping and
beating Pix as she cried out telling him to stop. Eventually he did as he said,
“Are you ready?”

I
could hear Pix crying softly and reply, “Ready for what? What are you doing?
Don’t fucking tie me up you asshole! The dead could be anywhere!”

“Closer
than you think, you sweaty little pig, you slutty little sweet thing,” he said
and I could hear Pix struggling against him. After a few seconds he said,
“There. All tied up like the pig whore you are. Now I’m going to fuck you up
the ass. And after that, a big surprise.”

He
raped Pix for what seemed like an eternity. After a while, her cries of pain
mixed with her orgasms until they joined together seamlessly. Finally James
must have worn out and all I could hear was Pix crying.”

“Where
are you going? Untie me, James!” Pix screamed and I heard the sound of a door
opening and shutting. A few seconds later the door opens again and Pix starts
screaming, “James! What
 
the fuck is
that!? Is she dead!? Get away from me! Get away from me!”

“Come
on, darling, this is just a friend. Haven’t you ever wanted to try a threesome?
A manage a trios as it were?” he yelled over the screaming of Pix and the
screaming of what could only be a sprinter. How the fuck had be managed to
capture a sprinter, I thought knowing what was about to happen but unable to
turn the radio off.

“James
no! NO! NOOOOO!” Pix screamed as James let the sprinter go, “I love you James!
Don’t let that thing on me!”

“Love
don’t pay the bills, Pix ,” he said and presumably ran out of the room.

I
heard the door slam shut and Pix’s scream take on a new urgency as the sprinter
took its first bite, “JAAAAMMMMMMESS!!!!”