by Eden Darry
Meg agreed. The jewellery was delicate. The light was bad, but even so, Meg could see how beautiful some of the pieces were.
“It’s such a shame to just bury it in the dirt,” Meg said.
With the money from this stuff, she could buy a couple bars—or not work at all. She could spend the rest of her days in luxury.
But that would mean risking the lives of everyone on the Cape and probably in the world.
Ivar Sigmarsson had to be stopped. There was nothing to say he would rest when he got back his treasure. Which was why Lane had the knife.
“You still have the knife, right?” Meg asked Lane, suddenly panicked.
“Don’t worry, I have it here.” Lane lifted her shirt and Meg saw the handle of the knife sticking up from her waistband.
“Okay, good. Now what?” Meg asked.
“I suppose we wait.”
“For him to come back?”
“Yes. We should be prepared for Wendy to come with him,” Lane said.
“I don’t doubt she will. This treasure was her obsession in life, and I don’t imagine much has changed now that she’s—” Meg abruptly stopped speaking.
“Quick, out of the ditch,” Lane said and they scrambled out.
In the distance, Meg could hear something coming.
* * *
Lane heard the low sound of moaning. It wasn’t one or two moans, but it sounded like hundreds. She crouched behind the bulldozer with Meg and waited. Against her side the knife felt warm.
“It’s pulsing,” she whispered to Meg. “It knows they’re coming.”
“Good. Then it’s ready. Are we?” Meg asked.
“Yes. I’m ready. Meg?”
“Yes?”
“I love you,” Lane said. It felt good. She didn’t think it would ever get old, telling Meg she loved her.
“I love you too,” Meg replied.
Lane whipped her head around. Meg just told her she loved her. Did she mean it in the way Lane did, or was it more something she was saying because there was a good possibility they were both about to die? Was it more of an end-of-the-world type I love you?
Whatever it was, it felt good. And now was really not the time to be thinking about it because Sigmarsson was here with an entourage of about fifty zombies.
“Fuck,” was all Lane said.
She guessed this was it. All her life had been spent pleasing herself. No responsibility and no consequences. How different her life had turned out to be. If this was how it was going to end, she was glad it would end with her finally doing something that counted. And even if she was to die, she would die trying her best to make sure Meg survived.
Lane took a deep breath, turned and kissed Meg on the cheek, then stood up. She walked out from behind the bulldozer with the langseax held tightly in her hand. It burned. And so did her left arse cheek, which was great. It had probably cramped up while she’d been crouched behind the construction equipment. Just what she needed.
“Erm, hey, you,” Lane said.
Sigmarsson’s gaze was fixed on the trench and most likely the treasure lying in it. At the sound of Lane’s voice he turned, and his milky dead eyes locked onto hers.
“Arn,” he said. Or at least that’s what it sounded like. Lane remembered her hallucination back on Commercial Street when she’d first picked up the knife.
“My name is Lane,” she said. “We’ve given you back your treasure, and now we want you to…I don’t know, be at peace?” She hadn’t really rehearsed what she’d say to him. “Basically, we want you to get back in your grave. Please.”
Sigmarsson laughed. Lane felt stupid. This wasn’t how things went in the movies. Everyone knew exactly what to say and didn’t sound at all ridiculous.
“Die,” was all Sigmarsson said.
He lifted his arms, and his horde began to move towards Lane. She lifted the knife, and the horde shrank back.
Lane took a step forward, and the horde shuffled back. Several bumped into each other, fell over, or bit out at each other. They were confused, afraid.
Suddenly, Sigmarsson opened his mouth and let out a screech. Wisps of blue smoke started to swirl around him becoming denser and getting faster until he sucked it all in, and then fired it back out at Lane in a long stream of blue fire.
Out of instinct, Lane dived left but quickly realized she wasn’t fully out of the way. She wielded the knife like a bat and swung.
The blue fire hit the knife, and the force of it sent shock waves up her arm. Shit, that hurt. Lane landed painfully on her side but didn’t take her eyes off the blue fire which seemed to fragment and then separate, turning back into wisps of harmless smoke again.
But before she could get back up, Sigmarsson was upon her. He grabbed her by her shirt and lifted her up. This close, she could smell the rotten, fetid stench coming off him. He shouldn’t smell like this, she thought. He was just dust and bones by now.
Lane kicked out her legs and managed to catch Ivar hard in what was left of his stomach. He didn’t flinch. He started to open his mouth again, and Lane knew this was it, curtains, if she didn’t do something.
“Hey, asshole.”
Meg.
Sigmarsson turned his head. Lane looked past his shoulder to where Meg stood, waving her arms.
“Meg, no,” Lane shouted.
Meg ignored her. “Come on, over here.”
Lane raised her arm and tightened her grip on the knife.
“That’s right, come and get me,” Meg shouted again.
As Lane brought the knife down, Sigmarsson turned his head back around to face her.
He let go of her shirt and, with one huge hand, reached out and grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the knife. He squeezed, and Lane felt something snap.
The pain was unbearable. She cried out, and white spots danced in front of her eyes.
She dropped the knife.
The world receded.
She was going to die.
Her arse cheek still burned. And then she remembered.
With her good hand, Lane reached into her back pocket. It was there, the card. She pulled it out.
It was on fire.
Going purely on instinct and with no real idea why, Lane held the tarot card out—the one which depicted her as a warrior—and then slammed it into Sigmarsson’s forehead.
He screeched and dropped her.
Lane hit the ground hard. Pain flared in her hip, but she did her best to ignore it as she rolled away and got onto her feet.
The knife had landed several feet away from her. Sigmarsson was still screeching and clutching his forehead.
But just as Lane went to grab the knife, she was shoved to the ground. Hard.
She looked up, and standing over her was Wendy—or a version of Wendy, at least. Wendy stood about seven feet tall, like Sigmarsson.
For a moment, Wendy stared at her, and Lane was certain she was going to kill her. Then she seemed to change her mind.
Wendy turned and faced Sigmarsson. She opened her mouth and fired a bolt of blue straight at him.
Lane scrambled for the knife.
She reached it at the same time as Meg.
“Well, this was unexpected,” Lane said to her.
Meg grinned. “To say the least. Come on, let’s get out of the way of these two.”
They dived for cover back behind the bulldozer.
Over by the trench, Wendy looked to be getting the better of Sigmarsson. The card Lane had hit him with had left a deep scorch mark on his leathery head, and Wendy’s blue bolt another across his chest.
Sigmarsson screeched again, and his horde of zombies surged forward, biting and tearing at Wendy.
“How did she come back like him and not like them?” Meg whispered beside Lane.
“I don’t know. I suppose she’s the same as him. So desperate for that treasure. She’ll do anything to get it.”
“I guess. How’s your wrist?” Meg asked.
“It’s okay. I mean, it’
s very broken, but it’s okay.”
The truth was it was agony. It throbbed and made Lane feel sick, but she was still alive, so she couldn’t complain too much.
Over by the trench, Sigmarsson lunged at Wendy. Together with his horde, he took her to the ground. She screeched. The horde fell upon her, ripping and tearing.
This is it, thought Lane. My one chance. My only chance.
Sigmarsson tore Wendy’s head from her shoulders, and then he held it aloft. He gathered a huge bolt of blue fire, and Wendy’s head was consumed.
Her body lay still.
She was finally truly dead.
Lane took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and charged out from behind the bulldozer.
Sigmarsson turned just as she dived at him.
For a second, Lane thought she might not make it.
He tried to twist around, but it was too late.
Lane buried the knife between his shoulders.
Sigmarsson screeched, but this time it was full of pain and fury. Lane twisted the knife and pulled it out. She stabbed him again.
He swatted her off like a fly, and she fell backwards. Stunned, she couldn’t move. And then he was upon her.
Lane angled the knife so the blade was away from her. As he bore down, Lane thrust up.
The knife sank deep into the place where his heart would have been were he a living man.
Lane squeezed her eyes shut and waited. He let out one final screech that deafened her and sent pain through her ears and straight into her brain.
And then he was still.
Lane rolled away from him and did her best to stand. Somewhere behind her, Meg screamed.
* * *
Meg always thought the phrase frozen with fear was a stupid one. How could anybody be frozen with fear?
When she saw Lane lying on the ground and Sigmarsson bearing down on her, she finally understood. Her feet were rooted to the spot, and her mind was emptied of all thought except Please don’t die, please don’t die.
When Sigmarsson screeched, and she saw Lane roll away from him, she was dizzy with relief—and there was another phrase she’d never understood until this moment.
But as quickly as relief replaced fear, fear found its way back to her almost immediately.
She’d all but forgotten about the zombie horde waiting patiently near their master. And now that he was dead, they began to move.
At first, it was just one or two. They looked like they were dancing some crazy kind of jig. Their feet shuffled, and they held their arms down at their sides like they were in Riverdance. Then the first one’s head exploded. Like, literally burst open.
As though the others had seen it and thought, Yeah, that looks like a cool idea, they started to dance too, and then their heads started to explode. Meg couldn’t help it. She screamed.
“Meg, Meg, are you okay?”
Meg hadn’t noticed Lane had come to stand beside her, she’d been so horribly fixated on the exploding zombies.
“Yeah, sorry I screamed. Are you seeing this?” Meg asked.
“Yeah, and I have to say, I’m sort of relieved. I didn’t fancy fighting them off with just one good arm,” Lane replied.
“But why are they doing it?” Meg couldn’t take her eyes off them. “And why are you calm about it?”
“I believe the word is numb. I feel numb. Except my wrist, which is killing me. The exploding zombie heads? They don’t surprise me. Sigmarsson was the one creating them and keeping them together. I guess without him, they can’t survive either.”
Meg watched as another head exploded. Bodies littered the ground where they fell. It was awful. Once, these had been people. Her neighbours. Meg hadn’t exactly been close to anyone in Provincetown, but she’d known a lot of them and now they were dead—or dying. She guessed it was better this way than living some in-between life as a zombie.
“Meg?”
Meg felt Lane’s hand on her shoulder. “I know. We should get back to Lois and make sure she’s okay.”
“Come on. There’s nothing we can do for them.”
Meg nodded. Lane was right. But all the same, it seemed so sad and almost wrong to just leave them here like this. She guessed the military would come along and pick them up, probably incinerate them. You couldn’t exactly bury zombies.
“Meg?” Lane said again.
“Okay, I’m coming.”
Back on Commercial Street, the place was deserted. There were signs the military had been here—burned out trucks and even a tank. Otherwise, the place was dead.
Meg guessed that made sense when most of the inhabitants of the town were dead.
She realized she hadn’t given Lane a hug or a kiss or thanked her for saving her life back there.
“Lane, thank you.” Meg stopped in the street and turned. “I know thank you is inadequate for what you did but—”
Lane silenced her with a kiss.
“Meg, we both did it. You drew him away from me when he would have killed me. We did it together.”
Meg guessed that was true. That, at least, felt good. They’d stopped the zombie horde from spreading.
“It just seems so strange, though, all the zombies just dying. Even if he made them and could control them, they bit people—people I knew—and turned them into zombies,” Meg said.
“Meg, it’s over.” Lane pulled Meg into her arms and held her tight. “It’s over.”
Meg leaned into Lane and closed her eyes. She really wanted that to be true.
“Let’s go and get Lois,” Lane said.
Meg nodded and they started walking again.
On the pier, Meg was relieved to see no fresh blood.
“Lois?” she called when they reached the boat, which was still tied to the dock. “Lois, you can come out now. It’s over.”
The yellow life jackets rippled and then fell away as Lois got up. “Swear? They’re all gone?” the little girl asked.
Meg held out her arms. “I swear.”
Lois leaped off the boat with a shout. “Lane did it! Lane killed the zombies.”
Lane laughed and ruffled Lois’s hair as Lois threw herself into Meg’s arms. “I didn’t do it alone. Meg helped a bit.”
Meg looked at Lane over Lois’s head. “A bit?”
Lane made a pinching sign with two fingers on her good hand. “A smidgen.”
“Oh, really? Sigmarsson was about to kick your ass until I helped you a bit,” Meg said and laughed.
Lane pretended to look affronted, and Lois giggled. “That’s not true at all. I definitely had him on the ropes. Don’t listen to her, Lois.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Lane. Come on, let’s get out of here. I think if we walk up Bradford, we might run into the military at some point.”
Meg held out her hands and Lane and Lois took one each. They walked back down the pier hand in hand.
* * *
Outer Cape Echo
5 minutes ago
It’s zombies. Get off the Cape while you can.
523 Likes
3 Comments
Will Roach: Is this some kind of joke?
Gemma Ward: They must have been hacked.
Mike Radford: I don’t think so. I’ve just come back from the grocery store and seen it with my own eyes. You should all get out now while you can.
* * *
Lane was exhausted and her wrist was killing her. Not to mention her hip and just about every other bone and muscle in her body. But she hadn’t felt this good in years.
After spending most of her life feeling like she was good for pretty much nothing, Lane had proven she was good for something—taking care of her friends. She had courage, and she’d been willing to lay down her life for Meg and Lois and even Wendy before she’d betrayed them—well, she’d been betraying them from the beginning. So maybe not Wendy.
Things were going to change. Whether Meg wanted her or not, Lane was not the same person she had been before she came to Provincetown, and she was go
ing to set about making big changes as soon as they got out of here.
Of course, her family’s money was nice, but she didn’t need it, had never really needed it. Her family wouldn’t be able to hang the trust fund over her head any more. If they didn’t like her choices, they could cut her off. It didn’t matter any more.
“So, how do you feel about running a bar?”
Meg’s question pulled Lane from her thoughts, and at first she didn’t really register what she was asking. “A bar? What?”
Meg laughed. “How do you feel about running a bar? With me.”
“With you?”
“Damn, Lane, did one of those zombies break your head as well as your wrist? I’m asking if you want to be with me—I’m asking if you’ll take me back.” Meg laughed again but Lane could see she was nervous.
This whole zombie apocalypse must have changed Meg too because the old Meg would never have made herself so vulnerable.
Lane stopped in the street and pretended to think about it. “Well, I mean, it’s a lot of work, this bar business. What’s the pay like?”
Meg looked confused for a moment and then grinned. “Not great but there are bonuses.” She winked.
“Bonuses? Really? And what about annual leave?”
“Oh, there’s tons of vacation—I mean, let’s be honest, being with me is a vacation all in itself,” Meg said.
“Then how could I refuse?” Lane replied. “Meg, I came halfway across the world for you. I love you.”
Meg stepped forward and kissed Lane lightly on the mouth. “And I’m so glad you did. I love you too.”
“Gross,” Lois piped up.
Lane and Meg laughed. “Watch it, or we’ll make you work in the cellar dragging beer barrels,” Lane said.
“Will I stay with you, then?” Lois asked.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Lane crouched down and pulled Lois into a hug. “Your aunt might want you to be with her. Either way, we’ll see you all the time.”
Suddenly, the sound of a revving engine broke the silence.
“What the hell is that?” Meg asked.
“I don’t know.” Lane lifted Lois into her arms, and they ducked into the mouth of an alley.