The Rising Dead (32 page)

“Maybe the answer isn't staying here and trying to make it safe,” Parker said, changing his position. “Maybe the answer is getting as far away from this place as possible.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Max asked.

“This thing has already hit California and Nevada,” Parker said, “but whose to say that we can't find a safe place up in the mountains of Utah? Think about it. Zion National Park is probably safe. There could be tons of people are camping up there. Or up in Brian Head? Or some off beat Mormon backwater filled with sister wives.”

“Area 51is literally thirty minutes north of here,” said Gunner.

“Gunner with all due respect,” Max said, “we tried it your way.”

“And we all almost paid the price for it,” Parker said.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Is there any other way to put it?” Parker roared. “You're responsible for nearly killing us all, several times over. Period. Plus you drove our friends away with your insane behavior. Travis was my friend and so was Gemma and they would be here with us right fucking now if we hadn't listened to you.”

“I say we go out swinging,” Holt said. “It's worked for me several times now. There's a reason. I've been hesitant to share it with you before, on account of you laughing at me, but I figure now's as good a time as any to let you in on it. I've been called by God to fight in his holy battle.”

“Is he serious?” Fat Elvis asked.

“No,” said Parker. “I've known him for years. He's not religious.”

“I wasn't,” Holt said. “Until the cowboy came along. He showed me. Opened my eyes. Gave me these.”

Holt held up a bottle of pills. He popped the lid off and gobbled down the rest in a single gulp.

“What the fuck was that?” Max asked.

“Oxy,” Holt said. “I'm gonna need the extra boost to get through this. Follow my lead!”

Holt turned and threw open the chapel doors. Max let out a loud gasp of horror. The filthy undead began to pour in past him as he swung his crowbar from side to side. At first it looked like he might be making headway. He knocked down several and shoved them back out of the chapel, only to have them push back against him, the sheer weight of them overpowering him. He was knocked to the ground and trampled as they made their way into the tiny chapel space.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

“Do something!” Max shouted, but nobody moved. It was already too late. Bright red spots of blood formed on Holt's shirt as the dead tore into him from above. He howled in pain and anger, but refused to stop fighting.

“No!” Holt grunted, wincing in pain as they continued to bite chunks out of his body. “No! No!” It was all he could manage.

“What do we do now?” Max asked in desperation.

“Will this help?” Frankie asked, pulling a shotgun up from behind the alter.

“Why the hell do you have that?” Parker asked.

“Ain't you never heard of a shotgun wedding before?” Fat Elvis laughed. “Vegas can be a scary place sometimes, kinda like now.”

Gunner took the shotgun and cocked it.

“Gunner, no!” Parker shouted, reaching out to him.

“It's the only humane thing to do,” Gunner said. “One round, up close, lights out. He'll never even feel it and he won't be coming back.”

“Yes!” Holt shouted, using the last of his reserves to get out the word. “Do it! Send me to Jesus!”

Gunner leveled the gun at him preparing to fire.

“Wait,” Max cried out.

“There isn't any time,” Gunner shouted back. “We’ll give you cover to escape.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” asked Parker.

“Out the back,” said Frankie. “Hopefully the majority of them will gather here, at the focal point, and you won't have to fight your way out. Pass through the parking lot. Behind it is an empty field that leads directly to the Mandalay Bay valet parking.”

“How does that help us?” Max was screaming at the top of her lungs, her eyes wild with fear and panic.

“They've got rows of keys just sitting out,” Frankie said. “Grab the first car that responds to the remote and take off. The freeway is right there.”

“I'm sorry,” Gunner said. “This whole mess came from my side. All I was trying to do was help.”

Holt let out a final cry then began to sink back as the dead pulled at him, ripping him apart. Gunner didn't hesitate. He stepped closer and pulled the trigger, blasting Holt full on in the face. It was over before Parker could blink. One second his buddy was there and the next his head was just gone. He didn't have time to react, to think about how he felt, to say goodbye.

Don’t think about it,
Parker told himself.
Later. There will be time to honor him later, if you make it out.

The explosion blew a hole through the dead, scattering them from the force of the impact, but just as quickly as they had fallen back they began to reform. The wounded showed no signs of slowing. They rose in eerie silence, their disease-ridden bodies never acknowledging they had been hit full on with deadly force. Several had buckshot wounds punched through their faces and upper bodies. They just kept coming.

“It's not gonna work,” Parker shouted.

“It has to work,” Max said. Gunner turned to them for the last time.

“What are you waiting for?” he demanded. “Go, you idiots! Go now!”

Gunner turned back to see Fat Elvis drunkenly rushing toward the front of the chapel trying to keep the horde at bay. He had Max's machete in his right hand, swinging wildly. He held his flask out with the other to keep it safe. Within less than a minute they had the impersonator by the costume and were tearing him apart while he howled in pain.

The last thing Max saw was Gunner rushing in to knock them away, fighting with everything he had in him. It was impressive for sure, but she doubted it would be enough to save them.

“Let's go,” Parker said, taking her by the hand and pulling her away.

Parker cautiously opened the back door of the wedding chapel. For the moment the coast was clear.

“This may be the only window we're going to get,” Parker said. “The plan is to run straight through and don't stop. Don't look back. Don't wait for me. And whatever happens, do not fall. Got it?”

“Got it,” Max responded. She grabbed him once more and kissed him hard on the mouth. It wasn't as romantic as she had hoped it would be, but it had all the urgency the moment demanded. Parker grabbed her by the hand the minute their lips parted and swung her out the door, giving her a running head start.

Max ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She was already in the field, sprinting for the Mandalay before she began to feel the stitch in her chest, the burning in her lungs causing her to slow. Her legs felt like they were filled with rubber. The muscles screamed at her underneath her dirty jeans. There was a tall brick wall separating the field from the manicured casino property line.

“Don't stop!” Parker shouted from behind her. She turned her head slightly to see him not far behind her. He was running with everything he had in him and catching up to her in a hurry. Max's vision blurred slightly as she tried to focus on the two gray figures hot on Parker’s heels. They were freshly reanimated corpses, recently turned, and still had all their speed.

“They're right behind you,” Max cried out.

“Head for the wall,” Parker yelled. “Watch out!”

It was too late. By the time Max swung around, the thing was already directly in her path, his drooling mouth open and ready to bite. Her momentum was going to carry her right into him. If she tried to turn she might twist her ankle or slide out on the loose soil. Max knew that if she went down, it was all over for her. They would be on top of her before she could recover, their disgusting teeth pulling at her. Raw animal fear shot through her, obliterating all her other worries. Her brain seemed to shut down as the adrenaline coursed through her veins, taking over. Without a second thought, she dug her left foot deep into the ground then leaped into the air, bringing down her right foot square in the large man's chest. He fell back, the force of the impact taking his legs out from beneath him, but his hands continued to reach for her. Max fell forward with him. The cold dead skin of his hands reached for her face but Max somersaulted, rolling over him, and his fingers slipped through her short hair.

Keep going,
a voice inside admonished.
You have to make it. Don’t stop!

Without missing a beat, she was up again and closing the distance between her and the high wall at the back of the field. When she reached it, she lost no time figuring out how to scale it. She swung her body up, balancing on the top of the brick wall, just in time to see Parker climbing up after her. She reached her hand out, anchoring herself, and helped him up. He reached the top, panting for air. He had a crazy look in his eyes, brought on no doubt by the realization that he'd just narrowly cheated death.

“What took you so long?” Max asked. Parker laughed in between gulping down breaths of air.

Below them, the two zombies that had been chasing Parker clawed uselessly at the wall, unable to follow them up. They were quickly joined by the one Max had knocked over. Max looked back toward the wedding chapel. Hundreds of zombies were moving through the dirt and weed strewn field now, shuffling forward. She had only thought it was the three they were facing.

Parker’s frantic cries make a lot more sense, now,
she thought.

Everyone from Las Vegas Boulevard was down there as far as she was concerned. She saw the blonde woman in the red dress's dead face among them, scratching and biting like a feral beast. No sign of a human being remained in her slack jawed expression.

Max turned her neck toward the Mandalay Bay valet and casino entrance on the other side of the wall. It was clear as far as he could see.

“Do you see anything out there?” she asked Parker.

He stared hard and long, scanning every inch of the horizon before answering.

“No,” he finally said.

“Me either,” she answered, dropping down off the wall. Parker looked around once more, for safety's sake, then followed her. It was like landing in a new world. Behind them they could hear the terrible moaning of the dead, fingers scratching at the bricks, fists pounding against the solid mass, driven by hunger. In front of them was dewy silence.

Max and Parker cautiously approached the valet. Sure enough there was an open box overflowing with car keys.

“Fucking Fat Elvis,” Max said.

“Let's pick a good one,” Parker said. “Something really comfortable.”

A loud crash knocked them out of their serene moment. They both turned to see hordes of gamblers turned zombies pawing at the double set of closed glass doors inside the casino. They were trapped inside, unable to pry the doors open.

“Jesus Christ,” Parker laughed, holding his chest. “That scared the shit out of me.”

“What the fuck?” Max stared in shock. “They're are so many of them.”

“It's a good reminder not to waste any more time,” Parker chided her. “There could be some down in the garages. Let's find out if any of these up here have keys.”

Max and Parker each grabbed handfuls of keys and began trying the remotes to see if any chirped. Six Hondas, four Toyotas, and a BMW later they settled on a glossy black Range Rover that had a full tank of gas.

“You wanna drive?” Parker stared at Max.

“Naw,” she said. “I'm exhausted. Why don't you take the first shift.”

“You sure?” Parker gave her one more chance.

“Yeah,” Max said. “Just get us the fuck out of here.”

They climbed in and fired up the engine. It roared to life and cool air conditioning washed over them. Parker locked the doors and pulled out, taking Las Vegas Boulevard to Russell and pulling onto the deserted 15 towards Salt Lake City. Empty cars littered the hot asphalt but not a single living man, woman, or child could be seen. Parker maneuvered around them and sped off with no intention of ever stopping.

“Looks like the Stratosphere is on fire,” he said, pointing off to the right. “You see that?”

He looked over to see Max had fallen fast asleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

They drove without stopping, passing through Mesquite but not slowing. Max slept the whole way up until they ran out of gas and had to walk on foot to St. George taking in the cool air as they gently strolled in quiet. Unlike the fear-fueled running of the previous days that left their bodies sore and tired, neither of them grew weary as they happily trudged along. There was a surreal quality to their sojourn, bought with their absolute refusal to think about anything but the present moment, lending it the simplicity and comfort of a deep, dreamless sleep.

Twice they sat and drank water from the automatic sprinklers left on to tend to the crops. Max would tilt her head back and gaze up at the puffy clouds drifting through the sky, pointing wordlessly at them, and Parker would follow her lead. There were no man made objects to obscure their wonder at the vast blue above them, no planes flying overhead, nothing at all to distract them from the raw beauty of the natural world.

When they had taken it all in, they rose again and strolled on in wordless contentment. They made what felt to them like great strides as they walked on hand in hand. There was no sound other than their gentle, ragged breathing--no screams, no cars, nothing at all.

The distant cackle of a crow broke their silent spell at last.

“Looks like you were right,” Max said. “The world up here looks untouched by everything we've been going through.”

“Yeah,” Parker said. “It's pretty idyllic.”

“That is a big word for a guy who throws balls at people for a living,” she said.

“You mean who used to throw balls at people for a living,” he said. “I'm not sure there is going to be much of a need for that kind of thing anymore.”

“I don't know,” she said. “People will still want to be entertained.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Guess we'll have to see.”

“What happens in Vegas...” she started.

“...dies in Vegas,” he finished.

They smiled at each other.