Darlene’s face is wet, she wipes fresh tears away. “Yeah, you are.” And she hugs Abby around the shoulders.
Abby groans. “Easy there,” she says, grimacing.
I pull Darlene off of her. “Don’t wanna her hurt anymore than she already is.”
“I’m all right,” Abby says. “Don’t want to puke though.”
Darlene chuckles. “I missed you.”
“It’s only been a day,” Abby says.
“Felt like a lifetime,” Darlene says.
“Yeah,” Herb says. “Thought I’d never get to see you again, Abby.”
Abby looks to me, rolling her eyes like a girl almost in her twenties would do. I think she’s thinks I’m going to back her up. I don’t. Instead, I shrug and say, “They’re right, it did feel like a long time.”
“Puke,” Abby says, shaking her head. “Norm?”
“I’m sorry, Abby,” Norm says, “but I gotta agree. We were all worried.”
“Yeah, Norm gets extra douchey when he’s worried,” Darlene says.
“Amen,” I say.
“Real nice, guys,” Norm says.
The doctor comes in and clears her throat. “Uh, excuse me, I think it would be best to let Abby rest. The funeral is starting in ten minutes and I really don’t want to show up dressed like this.” Phyllis motions to her outfit.
I give her a nod. “Okay, guys, let’s pack it up and get out of here.”
“Thank God,” Abby says. She fakes a yawn.
Everyone leans down and gives her a hug. Darlene kisses her on the cheek while Abby makes a disgusted face.
As we turn to leave, Abby calls for me. “Jack?”
I stop and motion everyone to keep going. “Yeah?” I say.
Phyllis is the last one to clear the room, letting out an exasperated sigh. Whatever, I think, sigh all you want.
“I hear you’re going with these people on a mission to D.C.,” she says.
I nod.
“You think you’ll be okay?”
I nod again. I hope I’ll be okay.
“I mean, without us and all. We have a pretty good team dynamic. Don’t want to mess that up…” Her eyes drift toward her bandaged hand. “Actually, probably not anymore.”
I grab her good hand and say, “Abby, you will still be the meanest, roughest, toughest son-of-a-bitch, zombie-slaying expert in what’s left of this broken world. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine and you’ll be fine. I’ll go get whatever the doctor needs to help you and I’ll find Doc Klein and get him whatever he needs to save this world.”
“Jack…you can’t do it all.”
“Watch me,” I say, and I lean in and kiss her on the cheek. “Get better, Abby. I’ll see you soon.”
Twenty-Eight
After the funeral, the sun is high in the sky and it is no longer chilly outside. The wind blows and it’ll bite you, but otherwise you wouldn’t know that winter is barely in the rearview. You would think summer might happen tomorrow.
I am walking to the armory with Jacob. Darlene shouts out behind me. “Jack!” she says. “Wait up.”
We have already said bye to each other, careful not to make it goodbye because Darlene says that’s forever and that’s not going to happen. Though, we both feel like there’s a chance it is goodbye.
The armory is already in sight. Jacob says, “I’ll just go ahead without ya,” smiling. Then he leaves.
Darlene jogs to me and jumps in my arms. “I needed another kiss. I’m sorry — it’s just — ”
“Don’t apologize,” I say. And I kiss her.
We part looking into each other’s eyes, trying to hide the sadness with smiles.
The group is waiting for me as I enter the armory. The first thing I notice is not the array of weapons and ammunition, but their faces. There is four of them. The only ones I recognize are Grady and Jacob. The others are young men. Jacob is the oldest of the bunch, with his gray, bushy beard and many wrinkles on his brow. They are smiling. One of the younger guys nudges the man next to him.
“Girls,” he says, then he gives me a wink.
“Gentlemen,” Grady says, walking toward me. “This is Jack Jupiter. Jack, this is the boys.”
The two men nod. They look oddly similar. Like they could be —
“The fellows to your left are the Garfunkel twins. The one with the beard is Billy and the other one with the cigarette is Sean — Sean, what I tell ya about lighting up around here? Mother doesn’t like it.”
Sean takes one long drag and flips the butt to the floor, stomps it out with his boot heel. “Good to meet you,” he says, blowing smoke out of his nose.
“Yeah, man, welcome aboard, but leave them feelings about girls at the door,” the bearded one says, Billy. “When you’re out here with us, it’s not every man for themselves, it’s not fuck everyone and run back to your woman. No, man. None of that shit. We stick together and we fight together and if one of us gets in a pinch, we get out together, capisce?”
“Yeah,” I say. Can’t argue with that.
“Go easy on him, Billy,” Grady says. He comes up to me and pats me on the back, and whispers, “Shit goes down, he’s the first one we let go,” and he gives me a wink.
I offer him an uneasy smile then look back to the Garfunkel twins. “I’ll do my best.”
Billy shakes his head. “Don’t do your best, just be fucking smart, that’s all we ask. Croghan wasn’t smart. The dumbass — God rest his soul — walked by the forest without sending scouts. If that was me out there —”
“C’mon, Billy, he didn’t think they’d be so close to home,” Sean says.
“No, fuck that, man, people died,” Billy says.
Yeah, people always die. It sucks, but it’s not surprising. I’m lucky to be alive and I think so is this Billy fellow.
“You’re both just bluffing,” Grady says. “I didn’t see the rotters, either. Hell, no one did! We learn from our mistakes and we go on. That’s how life was before the zom-poc and that’s how life will continue to be. Simple as that.”
The twins don’t meet his eyes. They look like two freshly scolded students.
“Daylight’s wasting,” Jacob says. “Let’s gear up and get the hell out of here. Sooner we go, the quicker we’re back with our gals.”
I roll my eyes. Everyone sees, and the three men laugh.
“Right, let’s go,” Grady says.
The armory is something like an apocalypse goldmine. The whole room is full of weapons. There are long assault rifles, the types I recognize as AR15s, there’s grenades, machetes, baseball bats, things that look like lightsabers from Star Wars, chainsaws, riot gear, katanas, axes, sledgehammers, weird blades…something ninjas might wear, and so much more.
“Something else,” Billy says, “huh?”
“Open your mouth any wider a damned bat’s gonna think it’s his cave,” Sean says.
Billy runs his fingers through his beard, looking at the wall of weapons as he says, “Bats can’t see, dumbass. They use sonar. Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘You’re as blind as a bat?’ God, to think mom said you was the smart one.”
Sean punches him in the upper arm.
“Ow!” Billy says.
“Save it for D.C.,” Grady says. Then to me: “Well, Jack, since you’re new, you get first pick. Typically we go with an automatic rifle, a handgun, and a melee weapon, but do what you want. Jacob here is the sniper specialist.”
Weird. I never thought of Jacob as a sniper. He seems more like a blunt object, charge headfirst into a sea of zombies type of guy with the barbaric beard and all. Goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover.
“Was Special-Ops in the Army,” Jacob says.
“Whoa,” I say, surprised, “you should tell that to Norm. He was in the Army.”
Jacob shakes his head, “It was a long time ago. And times have changed. If I talked to Norm right now, it would be like a grandpa talking to his grandkid about iPhones and Xboxes. Only thing that stayed the sam
e is the guns.” He takes a sniper rifle off the wall and peers into its scope. “Pretty much.” He smiles.
“Yeah, yeah, Jake is an old fart,” Billy says. “We all get it.”
And we all get Billy is an asshole, but I don’t say that. I look up at the wall of weapons. “So sniper rifle is off the table.”
“Damn right,” Jacob says.
There’s a handgun right in front of me that I grab. I really don’t care when it comes to weapons. I just want whatever works, whatever puts a bullet through the zombies’ heads. It has a wooden grip and chrome everywhere else. It’s a fine weapon. The weight in my hand alone tells me that.
“Good choice,” Grady says. “The SIG Sauer P220. That baby will hit the target four and half out of five times. The half-time you miss will still do some damage.”
“Uh, I don’t think that’s how those numbers work,” Sean says.
Grady waves him off and says, “Wasn’t too good at math, but zombie slaying…that’s another story. Good choice, Jack.” He lifts up his shirt and shows me almost the same exact pistol on his hip. “I keep mine on me at all times.”
“Jack took down Eden. He obviously knows his weapons,” Jacob says, grabbing ammo out of what looks like a large, oak shoe holder.
“Yep,” I say, feeling like a fraud.
Really, I just picked the weapon because of the wooden grip. I thought it was the modern equivalent of something Clint Eastwood would use in a Western movie. Of course, I don’t say that. Can’t say that when the testosterone is flowing. I know Jacob knows of my previous job, but I really hope it never comes out among these guys. I’ll get hanged. I bet they’re all ex-military or police officers. Something cool and badass like that. The best of the best, that’s why this group is smaller than the one I got into this village with.
“For rifles, your best bet is the AR15,” Grady says. “Shoots true and if worse comes to worse, it makes a hell of a bludgeoning tool.”
I look to the long, black weapon. A sickly feeling invades my stomach because I’m thinking of the Edenites clobbering one of Butch’s soldiers over and over with the tail end of a gun that looked exactly like the one staring me in the face.
“What else you got?” I ask.
“We got M16s, M4s,” he points to other guns below the AR15. “M16 is good if you keep the selector to semi-automatic. Don’t want to waste bullets and make a bunch of noise if you’re surrounded by those gut-bags.”
“I’ll take the M16,” I say.
“Not a bad choice,” Grady says, “if you know what you’re doing with it.” He smiles and winks. “Just pulling your leg, Jack. Of course you do.”
I don’t. Not really. I only picked the M16 because I remember using it in some first-person shooter game Kevin Crawford and I used to play in high school, when we were too busy being nerdy and lame to have friends or gals. And if high school Jack can do it in a video game, why can’t real-life Jack do it in the frigging zombie apocalypse? Yeah, I know, I’m reaching here, but what else can I do?
I pick up the M16 and it’s much heavier than I expect. Grady talked about the selector and I have no idea what that is, so I’m looking over the gun for something labeled selector and having no luck. Alas, I smile because I find it. It’s a small metal tab with three words engraved around it. SAFE, SEMI, and AUTO.
“Watch it,” Billy says. “Can’t be pointing that shit wherever you want.” Billy jumps back making a show of it. Quickly, I point the M16 at the floor. Even if I would’ve accidentally shot the red-headed asshole, it would’ve just hit him in the foot and maybe that’s what this guy needs.
Grady snickers. “It’s not loaded, Billy,” he says. “Quit whining.”
Billy pulls a gun off the wall and points it directly in Grady’s face. Grady’s features melt right there on the spot. The happy grin turns into stone. “Don’t worry, Grady, it’s not loaded,” Billy says, mimicking Grady’s voice. He spins the pistol on his fingers and puts it in his empty holster.
I want nothing more than to sock this guy, but I can’t. I have too much to worry about as it is. Abby. Doc Klein. Saving her and saving the world, so I can get back to Darlene by tomorrow. Man, it makes my head spin.
As the men load up, throwing boxes of rounds into their jacket pockets, I take Grady off to the side.
My voice is low. “You tell them yet?”
Grady shakes his head. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Besides, supplies first then if we see the doctor in the city, we’ll save him. But it’s a long shot.”
I nod. I already know that.
Grady turns away from me. “Everyone ready?” he asks.
There’s a couple grunts of approval.
“Good, let’s kick some zombie ass!” Grady yells.
No one shouts with joy or excitement. I doubt that happens anymore at all.
Twenty-Nine
The garage this place has is almost as breathtaking as the armory. We take a Hummer truck. It’s black. I am in the back with Sean and Billy. Jacob is behind the wheel, Grady in the front seat, our gear in the trunk. We cruise at a steady fifty mph on a stretch of untouched highway.
We drive in silence. I think of Darlene and Abby, hoping they can hold off until I come back, then I swallow hard with a dry throat, thinking I might not.
The image of Johnny Deadslayer comes to mind. He would come back. Johnny Deadslayer always comes back. He wants out. Seeing Jacob’s typewriter roused him. There’s stories to tell. It might’ve just been safer to stay in Jacob’s house and tell them.
“So you know the plan?” Jacob says, leaning back. “The real plan?”
I’m caught off-guard. “I-I,” I stammer.
“Yeah, we disobey everything Grady says because he’s shit,” Billy says. Outside of the windows, golden sunlight blazes off the blacktop. Wind rustles trees with hardly any leaves on them.
Jacob chuckles. “Exactly, though I wouldn’t have put it so harshly,” he says.
“Not cool,” Grady says. “I’ll remember that when you’re getting chased by rotters and I have the only gun.”
“Grady, you seem like a good guy to me,” I say.
“Yeah, I like you,” Sean says, putting on a cheesy smile.
Billy shakes his head in disgust.
“Thanks, Jupiter!” he answers. “But Sean, sucking up ain’t gonna get you out of the five big ones you owe me when I whooped your ass in poker last week.”
Sean shakes his head. “Man,” he says.
“Jupiter, you only like Grady ‘cause you’re new,” Billy says. “You’ll see how it goes, if we survive — which, somehow we always do — then you’ll probably change your mind.”
I look to Jacob, expecting confirmation. His blue eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror. He nods. “Should be an easy enough job,” he says. “Only problem is the population. When places like Washington fall, the streets are chock-full of roamers.”
Should’ve brought the whole armory, I think.
“Damn, man,” Billy says, fumbling in his breast pocket. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes. We start to decrease speed.
Over the horizon, I see skyscrapers and a glaring body of water. My breath is taken away by these dead monoliths and a river with no life. Headstones of the old world.
Billy lights a cigarette and cracks the window. Air whips into the Hummer’s cabin.
It is not fresh.
The other men don’t seem to notice it, but I have to bring the back of my hand up to my nose.
“What, you don’t like smoke?” Billy asks.
“No, he doesn’t like it in his face, asshole,” Sean says.
Jacob cracks his window, laughing.
It’s not the smoke I don’t like. It’s the death. The bile. The rot. With D.C. in the distance, each rotation of our tires bringing us closer, the image of Johnny Deadslayer fades and fades.
It is replaced by an image of a zombie. Of me as a zombie. I don’t like it.
Thirty
“
We walk from here,” Jacob says.
Really, we have no choice. The highway is choked with rusting, dead cars. Piles of VWs, Caddys, Hondas, Hyundais, you name it.
“We can get around!” Grady says, leaning out of the Hummer’s window. “Just go.”
Billy raises one finger and winks at me. “That’s one,” he says.
Jacob revs the engine and rolls over a PT Cruiser’s hood. The sounds of crunching glass and screeching metal cut through the air. We might as well have set fireworks off.
Billy raises another finger. Two, he mouths.
But the Hummer has cleared a wide enough path between the cars for us to get around.
Grady puts his arm out the window and fist pumps twice.
“Might have to take that one back,” I say.
Jacob slams on the gas.
The Hummer pushes another dead car into the ditch. Metal whines. Glass breaks.
From where we are, I can see the Washington Monument. I’ve always wanted to see it, just under better circumstances. Through the tinted glass, it looks like the Monument has been scorched up the side as if it caught fire. I shake my head. Man, that’s too bad.
The path ahead is clear.
“Grab the map, will you, Billy?” Jacob asks. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been up this way. We’re on 395, right?”
Billy grumbles a yes.
“We already passed the Pentagon, didn’t we?” Jacob asks.
I’ve always wanted to see the Pentagon, too. Man, this is turning into a vacation. Actually, let’s not call it that. A vacation means fun. This is not going to be fun at all.
“Fuck the Pentagon. This was probably all their fault anyhow. Always messing with shit,” Billy says. He flicks his butt out of the window and pulls another one free. Jacob eyes him wearily as we stop in the middle of the road, Grady hanging out the window, sizing up the angle to direct Jacob’s steering.
We stop about twenty feet from a huge pile up.
“Well, that’s about it, I guess,” Jacob says. “Did better than we expected.”
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