Transformation (5 page)

Weed’s eyes were momentarily wide with surprise, then narrowed to slits.

“Swastika under the neck bandage I assume.” Dale pointed at his own neck.

Weed tried to play it off. “Ah shit, busted.” He held his hands up as he thought of slitting this pigs’ throat and smiled. “You got me.”

Dale regarded the man suspiciously and said nothing.

“You understand why I had to hide all the ink. You folks would have never let me in otherwise, especially you.”

“Sure I get it. I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah. Surviving out there alone is going to be tough, but at least you won’t have to wear that flannel shirt all the time.” Dale stepped forward and stared the old biker down. “But I know the life you led, the things you’ve done, so I can’t quite get myself to give a shit about you. I suggest you leave now.”

“Leave?” Weed looked amused. “Fuck you. I ain’t leaving shit. You think Captain Coon and Guido the gorilla are going to cast an old man out into the shit?”

“They will when I tell them too.” But Dale knew both Ron and Sal were just too naïve and wanted to give the man a chance. And so far the old man hadn’t done anything wrong, but Dale just couldn’t let go of his experience and training. He knew what the old man really was, what he was capable of doing.

“Then go ahead pig and tell ’em. You know where to find me.” Weed made a dismissive gesture.

“I’ll give you twenty minutes. When I return, you better be gone.”

As Dale turned and walked off Weed looked at him, passively and calm, as he wiped grease from his hands. But his thoughts were not so serene. He was glad he hadn’t been holding the big wrench or he just might’ve caved in the pig’s skull. He was getting close to a breaking point. It was getting harder and harder to stay calm.

Damn it pig. Back the fuck off!
He thought as he turned back to the car.

He’d watched the others in action. They’d be talking about this shit for hours. He kept working on the cars, taking the batteries and placing them on the cart. When the cart was full, he’d start moving them all to the rear of a minivan he’d hotwired. Fuckers were heavy.

A few hours later Weed drove the minivan loaded with car batteries up the ramps from the second level all the way to the roof. Of course that Dale bitch never returned. But old Francis knew things were rapidly getting close to popping. He could sense it. The cop would have to act soon on the threats he just made if ever he was going to.

The batteries were heavy and in total weighed nearly 2,000 pounds. The van strained just to move and the suspension was completely bottomed out. Weed made it all the way to the roof where the geek was fiddling with some shit. They unloaded all the batteries placing them side by side on several long planks of wood. He smelled burning rubber and knew the van wouldn’t have made it much farther.

“Well I’m done for the day.” Weed pulled his shirt off and wiped his forehead with it. The geek didn’t look up.

“You notice anything different son?”

Jeff looked sideways then back. “You took your shirt off.”

“You don’t mind the ink?”

“No, should I?”

“Nah, I’m just worried it might scare some folks and well it’s too damn hot to keep wearing the shirt.”

Jeff was absorbed in what he was doing and didn’t reply.

“So I guess you’re OK with it.” Weed said softly.

“Oh sure. Yeah. Sorry.” Jeff turned his attention to Weed, trying to be more sociable.

Mary had been helping him become a little more integrated into the group because people liked him, not to change him. Jeff helped her separate herself from the abuse she endured. He’d been abused far worse than she had been and had to learn on his own that it wasn’t his fault he was abused, he didn’t do anything to deserve it and he didn’t ask for it to happen. These talks seemed to help her tremendously.

“OK then.” Weed walked off bemused. He imagined Porky and the Spade were still debating the situation. He decided to come clean to the lady folk if they weren’t in on the discussion yet. If he could head off the inquisition led by Dale he knew was brewing, he could reduce or even negate its effectiveness.

Jeff turned back to his work. He didn’t trust the old man whatsoever and had been watching him since he arrived. He had enough experience with real assholes to know when he was talking to one and he gave Dale’s opinion a lot of weight.

Weed found the women down one level, on the fourth, sorting and organizing stacks of food and so-called soft supplies.
That’s one thing to be said for these folks
, he thought,
they really know how to scavenge
. They’d already built up an impressive amount of supplies of all kinds. From kitchen cleaners to tampons and everything in between. They’d already filled a large section of the second level with an impressively large amount of the hard goods, construction supplies and chemicals and whatnot, while the food and personal items were all carted up to the fourth level. There was always at least two people out scavenging since he’d been here and everyone was always working on something. No one ever just sat and got shitfaced or baked or just plain old high, but they did take evenings off. They cooked a big meal, shot the shit, relaxed—real pussy stuff and Weed was starting to love it.
Fuck Francis you are turning into a vagina
, he scolded himself and smiled
.

And the geek. He had the roof half covered in a bunch of solar panels that all fed into a growing array of car batteries, then down to power the common area and his workshop. He had a few wind turbines ready to raise, but everyone decided to continue to keep a low profile for a while so he was asked to wait before he raised them. The geek also had a shitload of satellite dishes in one corner. A few were mounted and pointing in four different directions. He had piles of crap all over. As long as it stayed below the four foot concrete wall he could do what he wanted.

They worked at keeping a low profile too. Visible things were painted black, covered with black cloth, or in the case of the second level, everything was kept on the inner parking spaces and a plywood wall built and painted flat black to hide the attention getting shapes and colors. It worked because from a distance you might see evidence of habitation if you were looking for it, but there was a great chance no one would know they were all up there.

Of course the fourth level, their main living space, was the fullest, and the third was empty save for Casa Weed, and the second full of cars and supplies. They’d done their best to keep the very bottom level empty except for a few vehicles they favored for scavenging.

Weed came down the ramp from the roof to the fourth level and found Spic, Fatty, and Tits sorting goods.
Where was the black woman?
He wondered, surprised at his own disappointment. Well, Aunt Jemima was off somewhere else and the Whore was off with Guido scavenging. He had a hell of a time remembering their real names because he couldn’t give a shit about them, but the lapses in memory only added to his doddering old fool act. Now, the Whore had better tits than Tits did but Tit’s only redeemable feature was her tits. The Whore acted like a whore plain and simple. Apparently she and Tits had a thing for Guido, or so the gossip goes, and Tits was sore that Guido and the Whore took off together on a scavenging trip.

Spic and Fatty were thick as thieves and Weed wondered if there wasn’t a little lesbo action going on there. Spic was a hot little tamale and Fatty, well she was a big sloppy pile of a woman. She had that fatty stink about her. It was a combination of baby powder and a hobo’s asshole.

Despite his general dislike of the darker folk, he found himself taking a shine to the black woman and her man. He really liked chatting with her as she was straight on, no fake smiles or bullshit. He knew when she smiled at him it was genuine and when she looked at him sideways she was clearly thinking he was just a fucking dumb ass cracker. He appreciated knowing where someone stood.

“’S’cuse me ladies.” They all stopped as one and looked up.

“I know this ain’t a pretty sight, but I am sore tired of wearing this flannel straightjacket so I won’t frighten you. I have decided to throw myself on your mercies.”

Weed raised his hands and turned around to model his bare torso. None of the ladies looked alarmed or skeptical but of course none of them knew what any of his tattoos really meant. They let out a gasp when they saw his back and the scars.

“Should we be scared?” Lisa asked.

“Nah. I was just worried, at first, that you folks wouldn’t let me in. Then I became more and more worried I’d be turned out to fend for myself.” He swept his arm wide. “Out there. The thought just petrified me and the threats got to be too much. Hopefully now you know me well enough that . . . “

“What threats?” Lisa asked. She’d picked up on Weed’s bait.

Well Fatty it’s like this.
“It’s Dale. He seems to think I am a bad person. I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’ll do anything to . . . “

“No, don’t you worry. Dale means well, but he sees a bad guy around every corner. I think it’s his way of feeling useful. Maybe it’s all his training.” Mary said.

Why thank you Tits.

Ana smiled. “Well I’m cool with your tattoos and I don’t think you can get kicked out because one person thinks you should be. If that were true, Lisa would be long gone.”

Lisa smiled and play slapped at Ana.

Cute little beaner
, Weed thought,
I’d sure like to sample your tiny tight taco ma’am
.

“What do they all mean?” Mary asked.

Tits, if you ask me no questions I’ll tell you no lies
, he thought.

“They mean that a long time ago I was a stupid kid that ran with a bad crowd. I served some time too. But now these are all just symbols of mistakes I made in the far past and daily reminders of how blessed I am to have made it through such dark times.”

“And the scars?” Mary continued her question then caught herself. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking about that.”

“Those?” Weed smiled. “I got them scars from patting myself on the back too many times over the years.”

The ladies all chuckled and took his humorous answer as a deflection. Weed meant it as a ploy to make himself look upset by the memory of the incident rather than launching into a rant fueled by a red hot anger he still felt to this day. He needed to sound like a remorseful old fool, not a dangerous old psycho.

Weed grew somber. For a rare moment he spoke the truth. “I was accosted in jail by a criminal element. I was left to die . . . “ And then he resumed his lies. “It’s what turned me completely away from that life. The Lord does work in mysterious ways.”

Weed grimaced at the memory and tried to hide the anger he still felt to this day. He was young, hadn’t even been patched in for more than a year, when he took the fall for an older member and did some time. He was washing his balls the first night when the Latinos grabbed him in the shower. He fought them hard, especially since he at first thought they wanted him for his tight fresh asshole. But when they belted his wrists and hung him from a shower head he knew what was coming. They lashed him for twenty minutes with a stripped extension cord. But all them spics were dead within twenty four hours and the lashing got some time shaved off his sentence. Most importantly to this very day his asshole still made a noise when he farted.

The ladies were all smiles. He had them.

Mary jumped up and ran down the ramp to the second level to fetch more supplies to sort. Weed chatted a bit with the remaining ladies about dinner, the weather, and the like. The ladies had some culinary surprise planned for the evening and Weed was excited. He excused himself as the ladies continued to sort and shelve all the goods. He was headed to the third level and back to Casa de Weed for some hooch and a smoke from his shrinking supply of happy tobaccy and then a nice long nap. When he woke from his nap, he’d have the munchies, dinner would be ready, and the sun would be setting. A perfect sissified evening he thought with a smile.

As Weed walked the length of the third level to his tiny abode, the sounds of his footfalls echoing slightly in the quiet, an enormous explosion suddenly startled him. The next thing he knew he was getting up off his ass and rubbing the back of his head where it struck the concrete. He watched as dust rained down from above.
Holy flaming fuck!
He thought.
What the hell was that?

He stood, slapping dust off his body. His ears were ringing and his heart pumping painfully fast. He had a bad feeling he wouldn’t be getting his nap anytime soon.

4.

Ellen had grabbed a few things off the shelves as they vacated the grocery store. Karen was empty handed.

In the daylight she saw what she managed to grab and it seemed so useless. A bottle of ketchup, gallon of vinegar, and a jar of pickles. She let the jar of pickles crash to the ground. The ketchup bounced once and slid away. She opened the vinegar and poured it over Trevor’s face. He came to immediately, sputtering and cursing. The dead paused, swaying on their feet and watching him.

“Trevor! Stand up!” Ellen screamed and pulled at his arm, Cooper grabbed his other arm and helped him to his feet.

Karen watched as the dead backed away. But she could see the crowd behind them trying to push forward. She felt her heart beating wildly and her breath coming in short gasps.

Trevor was on his feet but was visibly shaking. “I really need to lie down.”

“Not now.” Cooper took Trevor’s elbow to keep him standing. He looked around for a path out of their situation. He could see the dead streaming in at the far ends of the lot from all directions. Even with their fear of Trevor, the zombies would eventually get pushed into them by the press of bodies behind them. Already the circle was getting smaller. They were in the middle of a rather large parking lot and the closest thing was the store behind them.

“We have to go back to the store.”

Karen looked around, desperately hoping there would be another option rather than going back into the store. But being the tallest she could see better than anyone that the store was their only hope. Ellen and Cooper were holding Trevor upright, fighting to keep him on his feet.

“OK. Ready?” Cooper tightened his grip on Trevor. “Stay on your feet and walk.”

Cooper aimed Trevor towards the store but not straight at the entrance. The brick façade of the grocery was sparse, but in the way of minimal decoration there was a metal grid bolted to the wall. It looked like a giant metal trellis. It led up about twenty-five feet but ended short of the roof by a good eight feet.

They moved as a group and the zombies parted for them. Cooper made the girls go first then followed them up, climbing hand over hand with ease. They were temporarily safe. Trevor was still standing at the bottom.

“Come on Trevor, climb.” Cooper yelled.

Trevor started walking away and towards the store. He stepped into the blackness and was gone.

“Trevor no!” Ellen yelled, but he was already gone.

Cooper clung to the metal trellis, safe for the present moment. He looked up at his next challenge. The metal lattice was easy to climb. It was like a big ladder, but it ended shy of the roof by at least eight feet.

At the top he could see that he might die trying to get off the lattice and on to the roof. They wouldn’t last too much longer clinging to the wall so he resigned himself to the fact that he would have to take the risk and just not think about the possible consequences. Cooper looked back down. Karen and Ellen were holding on not far below him. The dead were still coming in from the surrounding areas. Even if they made it to the roof, they were going to be stuck on it for a long time unless something changed. Looking back up, Cooper thought he could reach the edge of the roof if he could stand on the very top of the lattice. But getting into a standing position on the very top of the trellis which was just inches from the wall, was the tricky part.

With barely a foot clearance between the lattice and the wall, Cooper needed to climb up past the top rung without using his hands. He started by placing his hands and cheek flat against the cement wall. He couldn’t bend forward or he would push himself off. He took one step and rose a foot or so. He was now leaning against the wall. Another step and he was standing higher and also with nothing to grab hold of. He took a third step, leaning forward but without exerting any force forward to do so. He had to go straight up or fall. He slid his hands and cheek slowly upwards. It was nerve racking, but he had to get them on the roof.

Finally he had one more step to the very top rung. Taking that last step up without bending his knee too much, laying his leg sideways to do so, leaning gingerly against the wall, and then having to exert enough force to lift his body upwards was awkward physically and excruciating mentally. He had to focus, give it his all and follow through, otherwise he would fall. An unsure, half-assed effort would get him killed. Then all he had to do would be to stay balanced on the top rung, reach for the edge of the roof and pull himself up.

“What are you doing up there, dummy?” It was his sister of course.

Finally he did it. He lunged upward, placed his foot on the top rung alongside the other and was standing at the top. He gave himself a moment to breath before doing anything else. He looked up slowly and extended his arm to the roof. His hand was at least a foot from the edge. Cooper didn’t waste time looking back down or lowering his arm. His only option now was to jump for the edge and hope he made it. If not he was sure he would slip off the metal bar when he landed on it. He needed to jump less than a foot to grab the edge of the roof.

He bent his legs, spreading them apart so his knees wouldn’t drive straight into the wall and push him off. He leapt upwards.

His fingers caught the edge but immediately slipped off. His heart jumped into his throat as he fell back to the thin metal bar. He was going to do whatever he could to prevent himself from falling into the grasping hands and clacking teeth of the dead. Fortunately, he managed to land on his feet.

With a
pop
and a
twang
the top few bolts holding the frame to the wall broke free. Ellen and Karen both screamed. Ellen’s feet slipped from the rungs but she held on. The vertical rungs of the lattice began to bend, the top of the trellis slowly moved away from the wall.

“Cooper!” Ellen yelled again and again in her panic.

The next row of bolts began to squeak under the strain. He couldn’t risk another jump. Now he couldn’t reach the edge and the lattice wasn’t ridged. If he jumped it would simply spring backwards or pop off the wall all together. He considered jumping off and letting himself get taken by the zombies so his sister would have a chance to survive. He was looking down, contemplating his options when a hand grabbed his wrist and lifted him in one smooth motion onto the roof.

Trevor dropped Cooper on his ass and tipped back the jug of energy drink he’d picked up while in the store below. He chugged it down, seemingly unable to stop himself.

“Holy shit!” Cooper was amazed, but hadn’t forgotten Ellen and Karen. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the edge of the roof. He reached down and was too far to grab Ellen’s outstretched arm. He felt a hand on his ankle and with that he slid forward and grabbed her hand.

“OK!” He yelled over his shoulder. Trevor pulled them both up.

Karen was next and being taller was able to get herself up more easily.

Trevor had sport drink all down the front of his body. He pulled the jug away momentarily.

“Sorry I was dying of thirst.” There were already two empty jugs on the roof by his feet.

“So you didn’t go in to save us?” It was Karen.

“At first no. I didn’t even think about the zombies. I was so thirsty I just had to get something.”

“Well, at least he’s here.” Ellen looked a bit pissed at Karen. “Where’s Tom?”

Karen attempted a feeble reply. “Maybe he saw all the zombies . . . “

“Then why did he push me out of the car? No, he took off.” Trevor said between gulps.

“Where’s Hector?” Cooper asked.

Trevor just pointed over to where he had been relieving himself. “I saw him get taken down. Look I need to go back down and find food. I’ll bring stuff back up for all of us.” He stepped into a broken skylight and dropped into the darkness.

Everyone jumped at that but Cooper hadn’t forgotten about the feat of strength Trevor had just exhibited.

Cooper walked over to the skylight and looked down into the darkness. He heard moaning and rustling but nothing else. He knelt and squinted. He could see nothing. Having just been in the store, even with the skylight, it was too dark to see much of anything.
Can he see in the dark too?
He wondered. Long minutes passed while Trevor was in the store. Cooper and Ellen caught up while Karen looked out over the dead and the city beyond. They were still close to the bay and could see it and smell the sea air.

Karen looked sad. Ellen caught herself watching the older woman, wondering if she should go over and talk to her, ask her if she was OK. Suddenly Karen fell forward. It wasn’t an accident. She closed her eyes and spread her arms out.

Cooper and Ellen both jumped in reaction, but it was too late to do a thing. They ran to the edge of the roof. It seemed Karen was already dead. Her corpse was crowd surfing as it was being torn to pieces. Her body jerked spasmodically as parts were torn off and chewed away. Within a few yards her body sunk below the surface and was gone.

“She didn’t scream.” Ellen said in disbelief.

Cooper was disturbed by Karen’s actions, worried about how Ellen may feel, but he was mostly concerned with his own lack of feeling towards her apparent suicide. Something about it made him a little peeved at the woman. He put his hand on his sister’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” That was all he could think to say.

Suddenly Trevor was behind them. He was holding several full bags under one arm.

“Where’s Karen?” He dropped the bags on top of an AC unit. The roof was a very rough layer of tar and rocks so there was no sitting on it.

“She jumped. Off the roof.” Ellen said, feeling sad. She liked Karen and the last few weeks had brought them closer together, but she wasn’t very upset. Maybe the new reality of the world had toughened her up that much. Maybe it would hurt more later when it sank in.

As Cooper and Ellen caught up, focused on each other or the still scenic city and bay, Trevor was eating a large piece of putrid meat that was probably once a prime rib. It was completely covered with writhing maggots that dropped off as he tore chunks of the meat away, many clung to his beard and squirmed in confusion as they looked for the food they’d just been ingesting. The rotten meat stank but the odor was masked by the hundreds of rotten corpses below. He chewed thoughtfully, not thinking his choice of meal was odd. He took another big bite and swallowed it whole this time. He realized chewing did nothing for him. He didn’t enjoy the food any more or less. He was simply getting stuff into his body that he somehow knew it needed. He took a few more large bites and finished the meat.

He felt every inch of his body buzzing with energy, almost vibrating as it changed gradually and on a minute scale. It wasn’t perceptible by casual observation but he could feel it. He tried to tell himself it was just the result of being severely dehydrated and starved then suddenly filling his body with so much food. But he knew it was more than that, much more, and he was frightened.