Zombie Rush 2 (7 page)

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Skit asked.

“It’s good to let them know that they are being watched, Skit. Cowards and asshole should always have to look over their shoulder.”

***

A drape fell back into place as if it had been stirred by a simple, small breeze. He too had been watching the looters. He had no problems with them being racists—or assholes of any sort, for that matter. He was above that. He liked tough guys. Tough guys, when they broke, offered the most pleasure. The satisfaction of seeing a man who could crush him weeping helplessly at his feet was enough stimulate his needs beyond capacity. Much pleasure and much joy in seeing them beg, but now there was a woman who dared to face them, as if in challenge. It must be her. What luck. Fate had smiled; oh, what pure joy. She was special; he could see it.

She deserves a gift,
he thought as he looked once again at the redneck holding the flag. He would find something special for the woman who was going to add so much to his life.

***

Charlie watched as his old man secured a house after almost being swarmed back at the truck yard. There were so many characteristics that he expected from the man, but there were also some that surprised him. His dad had always walked around with the world-is-full-of-pussies attitude, to the point where Charlie felt there was no compassion in his dad at all.

He was surprised when they found the old lady in the house and his father became as gentle as anyone could be while he lifted her into her wheelchair from the closet where she had hidden. The woman cried when she saw what the zombies had done to her home. When she realized that her husband was nowhere to be found and what that meant, she was overwhelmed with grief.

Charlie could tell there were those with them that felt the woman should be left behind, abandoned to the world they now lived in, but Solomon wouldn’t have it.

“You go; I’ll either catch up with you or …
 
not,” his dad had said.

“I’ll stay with you, Dean.” Kodiak, who they had rescued from the club, stepped forward. Charlie heard a few others step up and say the same, but he didn’t pay attention. Once Kodiak stepped up, Charlie—being a young pubescent male and Kodiak being a perfectly shaped professional dancer—was helpless to whatever she wanted.

“Can you get me my medicines out of the cupboard there?” the old woman asked while pointing toward a kitchen cabinet next to the sink.

Lester headed over to the cabinet and opened it, finding a large supply of varied drugs.

“Take the antibiotics and the oxycodone; I won’t be needing those. Hand me the Fentanyl and Ambien.”

“You’re not going to mix those are you?” Lester asked, concerned.

“Oh young man, one is for pain and the other to calm my nerves a bit. They should never even come in contact with each other,” the woman said as she placed a Fentanyl patch on her upper arm. “Could one of you ladies wheel me into my room? I would like to change.”

“Sure, I can help you with that,” offered Sue, a woman they had rescued from the Econo Lodge the day before after a run-in with a giant horde at the Walmart.

Charlie’s dad surprised him. When he was handed the over/under twelve gauge, he thought that it would only be a couple of hours until his old man was dead because Charlie hated him that much. At one point, he even had him lined up in his sights, but then zombies came and destroyed the opportunity. Since that time, Charlie started to see things in his old man that were very Charlie-like, so he decided to simply watch for a while and see what came up.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” the woman asked of the one pushing her chair.

“Sue, and yours?”

“Lillian. Would you grab me that dress on the left-hand side of the closet, please?”

“Sure; the black one?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Probably not zombie appropriate, but if we are in our last days then I want to at least look my best.”

“I get that, Lillian. We
are
kind of on the run, though, so you might want to be a little more practical,” Sue said as she pulled the dress out of the closet.

“Oh, honey, my running days are long gone,” Lillian said lightheartedly at first, but then a bitter tone came to her voice. “My children have become zombies, as have their children. They devoured my husband while I listened to it from the closet where he stuck me. I told him not to open the door.
But it’s Donny!
he said, as if he couldn’t help himself.”

“I know … it’s been rough for all of us, Lillian, but it’s up to us to survive and keep humanity on the map. Or at least that’s what Dean says.” Sue didn’t know if she quite believed it herself but would follow along until a better plan came to her.

“I emptied the bottle of Ambien, Sue. I already feel its effects. I remember this town so many years ago, when it was young. The cars were big and boxy and people used to dress up to go meet at the bowling alley or the fair. Going out was something special then and you took effort to look your best,” Lillian said, as if she never even mentioned that she just took a handful of pills that would kill her.

“I’ll be right back, Lillian,” Sue said, not sure what she should do about it.

“That’s all right, Martha; take your time. Donny will be home soon to take care of the younger ones, and Steven and I will be leaving for the game. You’re welcome to ride with us. The Bellaire has a large back seat.”

“Ah, okay. Just wait here.”

“Of course, I’ll just put on my jewelry while you talk to Stan.”

Sue walked out to the other room, right to Dean, who was talking to Kodiak and Charlie.

“Dean, this chick has gone batty.”

“What do you mean, Sue? She’s a sweet old lady,” Kodiak replied.

“No, she swallowed a fistful of Ambien and is starting to hallucinate. She called me Martha and you Stan, and she is putting on jewelry so we can all pile into the Bellaire and head off to the game together.”

Dean listened but then paused for a second, even reaching out and grabbing Kodiak’s arm to stop her from going into the bedroom.

“What are you doing? That woman needs help,” Kodiak exclaimed.

“No, she doesn’t. Let her go on her own terms, Kodi. She has a good memory playing out. Let’s go with it. Just follow my lead,” Dean said before heading back into the bedroom with Sue.

“Martha, who is this man?” Lillian asked as she stuck Fentanyl patches around her collarbone, like beads of a necklace. She had two pinched on to her earlobes as though they were the finest of jewelry.

“This is Dean. He is a friend of Stan, and this is his wife, Kodi.” Sue didn’t know anything about medicine, but she did know when someone was high, and Lillian was flying.

“Pleasure meeting you, Lillian. I sure hope those Panthers win tonight,” Dean said.

“Oh dear, they haven’t won against a Little Rock school for years, so don’t get your hopes up. That might change when those bussing rules come into effect and we get some of those Negros shipped in,” Lillian said, making the others cringe in hopes that several of their companions didn’t get offended by the woman’s historical thought process. Charlie even leaned back and looked out the door, but they were all too busy collecting supplies to hear anything.

Dean figured she was talking about a game they went to way back in the sixties. He grabbed her wrist for a pulse and felt something ever so slight. Her breathing was also slowing as the multiple Fentanyl patches leeched into her skin. She sat back in her wheelchair, looked at the group surrounding her, and flashed a bright but reserved smile.

“I don’t think that I will be going to the game tonight, friends.” She then stared at the mirror without taking a breath. Thirty seconds later, she breathed twice more and looked at Sue. “Live, Sue. Restore humanity.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, her final thoughts based in reality along with all of the horrors that it entailed. Her fingers stiffened and her eyes glazed over as her jaw clenched tight. A minute later, she took her last breath and Sue cried. She didn’t know why she cried; she didn’t know Lillian, but she cried regardless. Maybe it was the culmination of what could have been a perfect life ending on such bloody terms. Or it could have been the loss of her own family at the Econo Lodge finally coming through. She didn’t know. She didn’t care. She just needed to let loose and weep.

Chapter Six

Dreads

“So, I think we should keep to the wooded areas as much as we can,” Lisa said.

“You are nuts, aren’t you? We need to see these things from a distance. I say streets, alleys, and walkways. We have a long way to go on foot, and I don’t want to get cornered in some trees,” Skit replied after they had made it a few blocks away from the compound.

“All right.”

“All right? That’s it? All right?” Skit stepped past her and started following the straightest path, keeping to the sides and looking before he crossed an intersection or alley. They tucked into shadows or buildings as small groups or single zombies strolled past.

It wasn’t until they were a mile out and over halfway to their destination that they started to see the first signs of activity. The next street east was lit up, working as a beacon within the darkened city. The sound of several large diesel engines filled the air.

“What’s going on over there?” Skit asked, wondering if there were other factions at work in his town.

“We’re drawing them in to certain areas in the city where we can block them up and crush them at our leisure.” Lisa tried to lighten the morbidity of it all—giant machines rolling piles of human bodies over and over, creating mountains of flesh.

An enclosed-cab, newer-model bulldozer spun around to scrutinize the two. If they would have just stood in place, the operator would have done something with his lights to draw them in, but Lisa waved so the driver knew that they weren’t zombies and he turned back to his work.

The street where the operator worked glistened, wet from blood and crushed bowels and bladder with scattered pieces of body and brain lying here and there as a testament to the carnage required to take back the city. These were the survivors’ friends, neighbors, and coworkers being crushed and killed. The psychological impact was bound to be overwhelming in time, but right now, people operated out of shock and need.

If they were successful, they would be living in a world where every living soul would suffer extreme PTSD. The vision of a world like that shook Lisa to her core, but what choice did they have? Would the world be destroyed by the zombie plague or would it die from the calloused souls who inherit it? Lisa didn’t know or care; she just knew it sucked.

Lisa found herself thinking of the dead as nothing but cordwood or diseased animals. She no longer looked at them as if they were human, or anything that remotely resembled human. They were the turkeys being composted after an H1N1 virus swept through the barn. They were the cattle herd stricken with a plague, and must be destroyed or the healthy will also become ill. A harsh reality, but reality nonetheless and it was their reality.

“I feel like something is following us.”

Skit’s voice snapped Lisa out of her dark thoughts. “I know; I’ve felt it since we broke away from the wall at the compound. Zombies don’t track people like that. It would be too much of a coincidence to be the good doctor since he is unaware of our intent as of yet.”

“So who is it?”

“I don’t know; maybe Benson or Krupp sent someone out to watch over us?” Lisa replied, knowing that both men had a protective streak. She doubted it was Cat—she had been given a lot of responsibilities inside the compound. Maybe it was one of the National Guard troopers or a reservist who had shown up?

“I bet it is that cop, Ernie,” Skit said.

“Ernie? Who are you trying to kid? That little shit wouldn’t have the balls to follow us out here. Besides, Krupp has kind of taken Ernie under his wing. Seems he knew Ernie’s family.”

“I don’t know; he was pretty upset at the way you humiliated him back there in the AT&T store.” Skit hoped Lisa wouldn’t just blow off the kid; in Skit’s mind, that could be dangerous.

“I know. I was pretty hard on the kid, but he grates on me. I have also seen and heard several things that make me believe that he’ll be trouble, so I wanted to nip it in the bud right there. That boy has some growing up to do before he can be trusted. I think he actually likes what’s happening.”

“You’re kidding, right? I mean, nobody could like this.”

“I would like to say that I am kidding, but I just don’t know… Keep your eyes peeled on our back trail,” Lisa cautioned.

“Back trail, what is that? Some kind of cop talk? What’s wrong with saying
behind us
?”

“Shut up, Skit, and pay attention. Besides, cop talk would be ‘watch our six’.”

“Watch our six? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Shut up, Skit, all right? Just shut up.”

***

The radio station had been secured by three National Guardsmen who had heard the earlier broadcast. One of them was a radio junkie, so the three of them decided to set up camp and help out until something else came up. This wasn’t the first group of Guard troops to show up, but none of them seemed to have anyone at the helm. It was just small or partial squads here and there showing up and pitching in. Not being Regular Army, it was only fitting that they fell into the role of protecting the only thing they knew: their city.

Ralph was the radio junkie and held a tech position with the public radio station in the city, and the other two just tagged along. One was a loan officer at one of the banks, and the other worked the ticket counter at the local Greyhound station. Either way, Lisa felt more comfortable having some fire support at the station.

They walked into the building, which now had blackened windows and dimmed lights in order to not draw attention. The stifled rumble of generators and the soft hum of electronic equipment filled the building as they made their way toward the stairs and up to Tasha in the broadcast room.

“Well, you look rested,” Lisa said to the woman. She had expected her to have bags under her eyes from being up all night, broadcasting.

“Yes, I am. I looped some info feeds and music to get a couple hours of sleep, and then Ralph showed up and he has been taking some spots. Thanks for sending over food.”

“Hey, we gotta eat it up before it goes bad,” Lisa said, having no idea that someone had the foresight to send over some supplies. “So what do you want me to talk about today?”

“I was thinking about that. Originally, I wanted to do some inspirational things, but that starts to wear on people and might make things worse. So what if we treat things more as a progress report and ideas for what we want to accomplish in the future?” Tasha suggested.

“I have a lot of info there for ya, but we have to spend a little time remembering those we have lost.”

“I agree. At twelve and six, we ring a bell three times for a moment of silence just for that specific purpose. We can’t forget the loss we have suffered today.”

Lisa was thrown off; she expected Tasha to say ‘sacrificed’ instead of loss because that was the buzz word going around, There was no sacrifice; sacrifice meant to give up of oneself for a higher goal. This was just loss, and every
sacrifice
brought them closer to annihilation. This was nothing but loss. Senseless, valueless loss. No sacrifice for a loftier goal, as Harold had done for his family.

Lisa got an idea and once again that scummy political feeling dropped in. She couldn’t help it; people had to come together or there would be nothing but bad until humanity finally faded away, leaving the dead to rule the world. If a little persuasion, or maybe even manipulation, could do that then she would give it a try. It was harder for her, being an atheist, because she couldn’t pull that “God card” out and play it. That would be too much of a lie to play through. She went into the broadcast booth and took her seat as Alabama Shakes was cuing down on the broadcast.

“That was Alabama Shakes. I have someone special here to talk to you all—Lieutenant Reynolds—and she is going to share with you some of the things that have popped since yesterday,” Tasha said and gave Lisa the nod.

Lisa wasn’t going to get into pleasantries or anything that could waste time. One second without information could lead to one life in the world ending.

“We do have a compound or safe zone set up in the Sam’s Club parking lot off Martin Luther King Highway. Stay away from the equipment you will see on the way; they are trying to attract the dead, not the living. So if you want to avoid getting shot, stay away from the machines. The operators will see you and try to get you help, but keep moving. There is food, showers, water, as well as other items you may need. The hospital and some medical staff are under our umbrella, so if you’re sick, you can get help. If you are bitten … well, you know what you have to do.

“I have met a lot of incredible people over the last day and a half. One man in particular stands out. His name was Howard. Howard had been bitten. He didn’t want to die, but more than that, he didn’t want to come back and eat someone or infect his daughter or wife. So he asked me to do something that I never would have considered in the old world, but for Howard, I would do it. Because Howard came to me with honor and integrity. We argued still, but in the end, I put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Complete strangers to me, and complete strangers to Howard, collected his body and carried it with them until they could bury him with the consideration he deserved. Howard didn’t die for nothing. His sacrifice wasn’t senseless. Howard died for love. Howard died for the love of his family, true, but he also died for his love of humanity … his love of life.

“Another man, named Michael,” Lisa started again after a pause, “was bitten on his ankle, but he knew the results. They all seem to say that you can feel it as the infection burns through your veins, and makes your heart and skin boil. Mike launched himself out of the back of my own pickup truck and into the path of four runners. Several of the living would have died if he hadn’t made that move … that decision. Michael sacrificed himself so that strangers could live. So that people he had never met before could carry on the precious commodity that we call life.

“I am telling these stories in hope that you realize how important these lives are, even in their last seconds on earth. We need every one of you to get to the compound, so if you see other survivors, don’t shoot at them. We have what you need, and you are what we need, so there is no reason to kill anyone. The reclaiming of the city is underway and we need more hands to get it done. I also need you to be aware that there are bad people out there too; be careful and don’t turn your back on anyone you don’t trust. The best streets to use are …”

Lisa carried on with the pertinent basics of her message, but she had one more call to battle she wanted to put out there before signing off. “I know we have all been through a lot these last couple of days. Truth is; it’s been a fucking nightmare. We have experienced loss, deep resounding loss, and senseless death without value or meaning. Now, I can’t tell you that there is no death at the compound, because there is. We call it sacrifice because we, when we fight together, are making a sacrifice so that others may live. We need you and you need us, or our deaths are meaningless … our lives, a waste of time. Join us so that we can live or die together. Not a great offer, but it’s all I got, and it beats the hell out of the alternative.”

Lisa sat back from the mic and looked at Tasha as she put on a news loop from Minnesota that she had scavenged off the airwaves the night before. Lisa felt as if nobody heard her—that she wasted several hours getting there for nothing. She was unaware that the compound had practically shut down so that no one would miss a word of what she said. They cheered and laughed, some exclaiming it was the first time someone in charge was being honest with them. She unknowingly cemented a bond with those under her protection and created a yearning in those who were still working their way toward Hot Springs.

“That was really good, Lisa,” Tasha said.

“But?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know. Times like these, a lot of people will bring up this faith or that. It gives people hope.”

“Yeah, that is not something I can do; people would see through it. I am probably the only Hispanic to be raised as an atheist.”

“An atheist, really? Hmm … so what motivates you to do what you’re doing?”

“You mean the compound and everything? That’s simple. Life. Life is what motivates me. And the potential survival of the human race. I don’t need God to show me what needs to be done.”

“Easy girl, I meant no harm. I was just curious.”

“Sorry, I have run into a lot of religious zealots in my day and have no desire to get into that discussion again.”

“Excuse me, Tasha. Could I say something to the people?” Skit asked.

“Absolutely. Let’s tape it and I will play it in a couple of hours, after this news loop is done.”

“What’s the news loop about?”

“Demons, believe it or not. Here let me set you up with some headphones before I start in with Skitter Pop.”

“Ah, just Skit … okay?”

“Okay.”

After talking to the Guard troops who had stationed themselves there, Lisa learned that heavy equipment was actually checking on them every half hour and refugees streamed by from time to time. The street was an official route for refugees and was a main focus for the resistance.

Resistance? Is that what we are? A resistance?
Lisa wondered and decided to come up with a more appropriate name for what they were doing here.