Seven
By the time we get Froggy into the back of the van he is all but passed out, his head lolling back and forth like a rag doll and his lips moving with no words escaping.
“Wow, you really did a number on him,” Norm says. “Long gone are the days of the heroic Jack Jupiter who helps distraught farmers bury their zombified relatives, huh?”
I shrug. “I did what I had to do.” I just wish I didn’t have to do these things. When I get down about this stuff, I just think of Doc Klein saving the world. I have to do these things for the betterment of a dwindling mankind. For the fate of humanity.
So, with a length of rope in my hand, I begin to wrap it around Froggy’s wrists.
Norm takes the hunting knife and cuts the rope.
“Mommy,” Froggy mutters, his eyes opening and closing.
Darlene, Abby, and Herb are getting situated in the van, but when Froggy spoke, Herb turned around and looked at me. He looks like he’s just crawled out of the grave, his skin ashy, fear in his gaze. I do my best to ignore it. Part of me believes I spared Froggy because of Herb, I spared him to spare Herb.
Norm cuts the fabric away from the bullet wound in Froggy’s shoulder. He leans closer and squints. “Looks like the bullet went clean through. Very nice of you.”
“So he’s not gonna die?” I ask.
Norm grins. “I mean, I hope the bastard does, but it ain’t gonna be from your weak-ass shot. Thought I taught you better than that.”
Thank God. I don’t need anymore blood on my hands.
“Can you fix him up?” I ask.
“I’ll do my best. I wasn’t a medic, though. I was a soldier. You know this.”
“I know, Norm, you don’t have to keep reminding me. Just get him cleaned up so we can get out of here before the zees get in.”
“Zees?” He snickers.
I roll my eyes. “Whatever, just get him to stop bleeding.”
“Like I said, I’ll do my best, but I ain’t wasting too many of our supplies on this bastard. I mean, he did try to lick Abby.”
“Damn right,” she says from the front of the van.
“Do what you gotta do to keep him alive.”
Norm stands at attention and brings his hand up to his forehead in a mock salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”
There’s my older brother…hopefully.
I walk away from him and go to the front of the van. Darlene is now leaning up against the driver’s side door looking out at the piled up dead bodies on the shoulder, piled up for whatever beasts find them. I shudder at the thought.
Darlene is smoking a cigarette. She’s not smoked — that I know of — for years, not since college. This is not good. Not good for me, and certainly not good for her lungs.
“Hey,” I say. She smells like sweat — it’s sweet on her. There is still dried blood on her hands and arms, but she has since covered up. “How are you doing?”
She looks at me, a blank expression on her face, and exhales a great cloud of smoke. Normally, I’d fan it away and make some snide remark like, ‘Why get cremated when you can just smoke yourself to dead?’ or something stupid like that, but now I don’t. Now, I just take it.
“I’m doing fantastic,” she says. I see she is trembling slightly. “Getting fondled by some creepoid and watching my boyfriend slay a family of people.” She puts a thumb up while chomping on her cigarette with her lips. “I’m doing A-OK, Jack.”
I don’t like this. Not one bit.
“Listen, Darlene, you had to — ”
“I know,” she says, cutting me off. “I had to but I didn’t want to. I did it because I love you and because I wanted to save us.”
That’s exactly why I do these things, too, I almost say, but jealousy wins out. Ah, men, right?
“But Naughty Librarian, Darlene, really? She’s not supposed to leave the bed — er, I mean library.” I say instead.
“I didn’t have a gun, Jack. I had my tits and they proved to be a hell of lot better than your bullets, wouldn’t you say?”
I don’t know whether to be happy or mad. I mean, this is the love of my life. She let herself get groped — no, I can’t think like that. If it wasn’t for her, I would be dead and she’d probably be worse off. We wouldn’t even be having this conversation. God, I’m such an asshole.
“Do you think I wanted to do that, Jack?”
“I — ”
“Rhetorical question, dummy. No! I didn’t!” she shouts. I can sense Abby, Norm, and Herb watching us fight. It makes me uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I’m just sick of it,” Darlene says. She flicks the cigarette butt on the pavement and stomps it out with one blood-spattered shoe. “I’m sick of the pain and the violence. I’m sick of it all.”
“Darlene,” I say in a quiet voice, “that’s why we are going to find Klein. He’s going to fix this.”
“Bullshit,” she says. She stares at me and I find it hard to meet her eyes. “Bullshit and you know it. Save the world? Yeah, right. He couldn’t even save himself. Eden fell and he ran. Just like us. We are chasing a ghost.”
Ouch. I know she could be right, but I don’t want to let that thought invade my brain.
“I want to settle down, Jack. I wanted to do it before all of,” she waves her hand, signaling the carnage, “this. No more running, no more hiding. Just you and me and our happiness.”
“I know — ” I start to say, but she cuts me off.
“No, you don’t,” she says and walks away.
Double ouch.
Eight
Froggy doesn’t scream as Norm stitches him up. He is gone to the world. Norm isn’t exactly a doctor or a professional seamstress and the stitches wind up looking like something you’d see on a rag doll from hell, but it does the trick. I find the antibiotics we took from Eden and unscrew the cap off a bottle of hydrocodone. I pop two pills into Froggy’s mouth and dump a little water down his gullet. He swallows them without a problem. They’ll do the trick. Made Norm and I feel a lot better a few days ago.
“Geez, man, hope he doesn’t overdose,” Norm says as we walk around the van. He says it jokingly enough. My brother is coming back…slowly, but surely.
“He’ll be fine,” I say. Because he better be. After the fight with Darlene, I don’t know if I can feel any worse than I do now. Froggy dying, more blood on my conscience, probably wouldn’t help. So let’s not find out. Plus, we have a new lead on Klein and possibly on saving the world.
I start to gather up the weapons we have in the back, keeping them out of the reach of this crazy cannibal. As my gym bag fills up with a couple AR15s and a few pistols (plus the revolvers and shotgun taken off the corpses outside of the van), I lean out of the back and close the door.
“Well, now what?” Norm asks. We are walking toward the driver’s side doors. I still smell the stale odor of Darlene’s tobacco smoke.
“Jack?” Norm says, waving a hand in front of my face. “What next?”
“We find the Wranglers and then we find the Doc.”
“Not if those Wranglers find us first,” Froggy says from the back of the van, his voice is grave yet slurring.
“Shut up, creep,” Abby says.
He does.
“Dude is right,” Norm says. “I got this funny feeling like we’re being watched.” His eyes jitter to the surrounding woods.
“Maybe,” I say, but I really hope not.
“Can we get going?” Darlene asks. “I’m cold.”
“Well if you kept your damn clothes on, Darlene,” Norm says and laughs.
She flips him off.
I shudder. I don’t even want to think about that moment again. Naughty Librarian has officially retired.
“I kid, I kid,” he assures, then sits down and turns the ignition. The car roars to life, shooting out a stream of blue exhaust that practically engulfs the van. The stink masks the earthy freshness of nature. I get in next to Abby, pushing her into the middle of the
seat. I get the feeling Darlene still doesn’t want to talk to me.
Oh, well, maybe a couple hours of quiet will do us good.
I turn back to Froggy and ask, “Where is this village?”
“Keep driving up the highway until you see a bridge,” he says. “About five miles or sss-so.”
Norm steps on the gas and we are off.
Nine
We get to the bridge as the sun starts to go down. There is no sign of zombies or humans. There is actually no sign of life at all. No birds in the sky or cawing in trees. The water beneath the bridge runs lazily and is fairly clear, but I see no fish or turtles. Just a piece of driftwood going God knows where.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Take the bridge, hang a left,” Froggy answers. His voice is thick with the drugs now.
“I don’t like this,” Herb mumbles from the front seat. Darlene puts her hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Herb,” she says.
“Smells fishy,” Abby says.
“Yeah, there’s a river under us,” Norm says and when no one laughs, he wipes the smile from his face and says, “Be quiet, you two.”
“I just want to find the Doc,” Herb says. “He was a good man. The first time I met him was on a Sunday — ”
“No, Herb, not now,” Norm says.
I say let him go. Everyone copes with fear a different way. With Herb, it’s recalling the past; with Norm, it’s cracking lame jokes. With me…I don’t know, getting my fiancé to hate me, I guess.
Herb flicks his gaze in Norm’s direction and nods.
The van pulls onto the bridge. I can smell the water below us through the glass. My nose crinkles. It’s not a pleasant smell.
Norm only drives about fifteen mph. The new tires don’t take the bumps and cracks in the bridge’s concrete well. By the look of it, the bridge must not have been inspected or renovated in the last two decades and probably never will be. It will crumble and fall into the lazy river, and in a hundred years, you won’t even know there was ever a bridge here. The thought alone brings a sort of darkness into my chest, one I don’t like.
“This safe?” Abby asks.
“I’ve gone over this bridge a hundred times in my life,” Froggy says. “Never had a problem.”
“Only takes the one more time…” Norm mumbles.
And unfortunately, Herb hears him and squeals.
“Won’t be no problem,” Froggy repeats, still slurring.
“Looks like it’s a problem,” Norm says.
He stops the car, not slamming on the brakes by any means but instead rolling to a nice, smooth stop. I lean over Abby to see what the problem is.
And I get goosebumps.
Outside, through the grimy windshield of this van we stole from Eden, there is a row of people standing at the end of the bridge. They seem to have appeared out of thin air. All of them hold weapons, and not broken broomsticks and baseball bats, but large rifles and shotguns. They are all wearing masks — burlap sacks with circles cut around the eyes.
Darlene gasps, and reaches across Abby to squeeze my hand. I squeeze back. It’s a way of letting her know everything is going to be okay.
“I don’t like this. I really don’t like this,” Herb says.
“Me, either, big fella,” Norm says. He throws the gearshift into reverse and turns to look over his shoulder. The panicked look on his face melts into one of despair. I turn around to follow what he’s looking at. Past Froggy, who is staring at these masked people with wide eyes, is more of the same people behind us. My skin prickles so hard, I think it’s going to jump from the bone.
Froggy shakes his head when he catches me staring at him. “I didn’t know,” he says. “I swear to God I didn’t know.”
“Doesn’t matter if he did or didn’t know, Jack,” Norm says, “because we better do something right now or we’re royally screwed.”
I turn back to Froggy. “Who are they? The Wranglers?”
He gulps and slowly nods his head. “Y-Yeah, it’s them.”
“Everyone grab a weapon. We fight,” I say.
Ten
I have an AR15 in my hand, except no one else makes for the weapons. They are just staring out ahead of them.
“C’mon,” I say.
Nothing.
The masked figures approach the car. The sacks over their face solidify the growing darkness throughout me. Because of the shadows, I can’t see their eyes. I don’t like that. I don’t like this at all.
The leader breaks away from the pack, steps forward.
None of us scream, but I think we’re getting close.
“Fuck this,” Norm says, and throws the gearshift into drive. He punches the gas pedal and I lurch forward, feeling the adrenaline and fear pumping through my system. There is the metal clatter of guns and bones hitting the plastic interior. Now, Darlene is screaming and Herb does his la-la-la.
The lead man doesn’t flinch as the van barrels toward him.
At the last possible moment, he steps out of the way, the other masked people with him. I grab Darlene and Abby and throw their shoulders down to get their heads away from the window. Outside, what sounds like four gunshots rock the van’s foundation. We weren’t going very fast, but now, somehow, we are going faster. The van fishtails and spins enough times to make me feel like I’m going to vomit. Glass breaks and metal dents and crumples as we slam into the guardrail of the bridge.
Herb has taken to sobbing.
“Oh, shit,” Norm says.
I lift my head up. For a second, I think that I’ve hit it hard enough to knock my vision for a loop, but really, all I’m seeing is just more and more of these people and their masks.
God, at this point I’d rather see zombies.
“What happened?” Abby says. “What was that noise? Gunshots? Am I dead?” She pats herself all over her body.
“Popped our wheels, baby,” Norm says. “Road spikes…clever sons of bitches.” Then sighs as he draws his pistol.
“Oh, well,” I say, getting up and righting myself, “it’s never easy, is it?” I pull the revolver free, cock the hammer, and prepare for a fight.
Eleven
As I get out of the van, it’s too late. I should’ve known. These freaks have the drop on us. They’re closing around with their weapons raised. An icy calm ripples through my body. Somehow, I’m not scared. I’ve been through this before.
“Drop your weapons, friends,” the leader says. “Drop your weapons and live. It’s pretty simple, huh?”
I am staring at this guy with a look as sharp as razors. Norm turns his head toward me to see what I’m going to do. I feel Darlene and Abby’s eyes boring into my back. I can practically hear Darlene cussing me out in the afterlife. Why didn’t you just listen, you dumbass? We could still be alive if you would’ve just listened!
I let the pistol drop to the old bridge. It jumps and spins, the metal shining with the dying light, then settles near the road spikes our van trundled over, right next to a piece of torn-up rubber. Norm gives me another glance, shaking his head, but I can tell he’s grateful. He can’t handle another fight.
Norm drops his gun, too.
“Everyone in the vehicle, get out,” the leader says.
They don’t listen. I turn to look through the broken windshield and give them a nod. Abby leads the way, coming out with a snarl on her face and her hands up, then Darlene and then Herb.
The man standing in front of the mask-wearing, armed men smiles. “All of them,” he says.
“He can’t get out on his own. He’s tied up,” I say.
“You taking hostages?” the man asks.
“Yes and no. He’s supposed to be our guide.”
“Guide for what?”
“Around you psychos!” Norm shouts.
The masked man’s shakes his head. “Is that so? Well, that’s unfortunate.” He looks at me. “Are you the leader?” he asks.
I nod.
“You should really keep
your friends’ mouths shut…it could be detrimental to your survival.”
I say nothing. I think he expects an apology, but I refuse. No, I haven’t learned my lesson from Eden. I never will because I will never let a madman control my fate.
“Well, I’m gonna cut to the chase,” the man says. “My name is Croghan, Bill Croghan, and this part of the interstate is our country.” He puts his hand up and the mask-wearing friends of his close in around us. I feel like I’m suffocating, like claustrophobia is settling in. A few others get closer. I find myself shuffling backward, instinctively heading for Darlene who may or may not be mad at me.
“No need to be frightened,” Croghan says.
“Says the guy who’s leading a mob of people wearing masks. Yeah, okay,” Norm says.
“Unmask!” Croghan says.
They pull them off. Underneath are just the faces of the everyday, regular people we used to see all the time. There’s Jim the Mailman, and Betty the Bank Teller. Hey, doesn’t that guy mow our lawn, Chris or something? These are people you would see at the local town hall meeting, arguing about the dicks who don’t pick up after their dogs at the park. They do not look like vicious killers, but then again, this is coming from a man who has fought a dime-novel cowboy to the death in an arena of wild, blood-lustful people.
“We have been watching you,” Croghan says. “We saw how you cleared away half a dozen cannibals with your backs against the walls.” Croghan gets on his knees. Everyone else does the same right after.
I look back with equally wide eyes, then I turn to Norm. He is smiling and shaking his head. Behind me, I see Abby doing the same thing. We could run right now, we could pick up our dropped guns and bury all of these people, too. But we don’t.
They know we won’t.
“We would like you to join us,” Croghan says, his head is bowed, floppy brown hair hanging in his eyes. He looks up, now. “What do you say?”
I shrug. It’s hard to say no to a group of people literally bowing down to you, but I do. “I’m sorry, we are on a mission of our own.”
The Dead Collection Box Set #1: Jack Zombie Books 1-4 Page 42