Abby reaches out to me with her good hand. “Don’t think like that,” she says. “You did him a favor. You did me a favor. I couldn’t watch him suffer, but I couldn’t pull the trigger, either.”
I turn away as more tears flow from my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Herbie,” I say. “I really am. I hope you find peace, I hope you find your Auntie and your cousins, and I hope the music never stops.”
“He’s better now,” Abby says.
“I know, I know,” is all I can say.
Fifty-Seven
She eventually does get up to help me move Herb. He weighs so much, the two of us can hardly do it. When the water gets up to my waist, Abby still standing on the wet sand, the tide does the rest of the work and takes him out and away from us. I climb out of the water and put my arm around Abby.
We watch him sink together for what seems like a long, long time.
It’s only when the zombies’ growls and groans and rattles reach us do we move. Their eyes bob in the growing darkness. The sun has gone down behind the mountains, lighting their peaks with fire.
I have my next move planned in advance.
I walk over to the flipped row boat. There is one oar beneath it. As I flip it, a small creature scurries away in the darkness and disappears into the sand dunes. Abby comes over to help me.
We don’t talk and the zombies’ noises fill our ears. I can’t take it anymore.
Sink or swim, Norm says in my head.
“How ‘bout I float?” I say under my breath as I’m getting into the boat.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say.
The wood is not the sturdiest, but it’ll last long enough for us to get around the mountains, I think.
I hope.
It’s going to have to.
Abby gets in after me, I reach out and help guide her. The zombies hit the beach. Their death-weakened legs are no match for the sinking sand. Some of them trip and fall, tumble down the slope. Some of them trample the others and fall that way. Only a handful remain upright and as upright as their flaccid spines and leathery flesh will let them be. Of the handful, only a few reach the water. They keep going until their legs, acting on pure animalistic instinct, don’t work anymore and gravity is distorted. I see their eyes sink to the bottom of the now-black water like dropped flashlights.
The boat pulls away with the help of the one oar, the eyes grow more distant. I wish I could say we are getting safer, but I can’t. We don’t know what lies on the other side of the mountains. I have a feeling it’s nothing good. I paddle forward like a madman until the glowing fires of their eyes are nothing but dim embers.
Fifty-Eight
The building is devoid of all light. The sun has gone down almost completely. Over the roar of the lake’s waves and the breeze in my ears, I hear the faint growls of the zombies from the shore, carried on the wind.
But I can see the coast, where the building’s base is.
I’m thinking how we’re so slick, how they won’t even see us coming because Central is out there somewhere, chasing Norm in that Jeep. Besides, who comes by way of a rowboat to save the world? Not Superman. Not Batman. Not anybody besides Jack Jupiter and Abby Cage.
“What’s the plan?” Abby asks me.
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“Typical,” she says. I notice her voice is slowly coming back to its normal pitch. I wish I could say it’s as simple as us leaving all our emotional baggage on the other side of the lake, but it isn’t. Herb is still dead. Gone. Lost forever. And we both know that.
I talk again because I don’t want there to be anymore silence, plus it makes the rowing easier. “We kill everyone in sight and we get Darlene back.”
“Obviously,” Abby says.
“Then we kill Klein.”
“Again, obviously,” she says.
“Well,” I say, “can you do better?”
“No,” she says. “It’s not a bad plan…I guess.”
We hit the shore. I get out and pull Abby and the boat the rest of the way, making sure the gun doesn’t get wet. I’ve since checked the rounds and there’s five shots left. All I need is one for Klein. My chest tightens then as I start to realize the chances of me making it out of here alive are slim. Zombies are one thing, but humans…they’re the real monsters. Doesn’t matter. I have to try.
I wish I could see Darlene now. I didn’t even get to kiss her before she was ripped away from me. Believe me when I say I’m going to kiss her hard when I save her.
“I think — ” Abby starts to say.
A light floods the lake, so strong, I let go of the prow and shield my face. No. I force myself to open my eyes and move my hand. It takes too long for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I see the outlines of six people.
Five bullets, I’m thinking. Not enough.
The sounds of rifles cocking, rushed footsteps, then a voice. Doc Klein’s voice. “It’s too late, Jack. The damage is done, the plans are in motion. There’s no derailing this train now.”
I raise my gun at him, but two men wearing the same type of suits as the men back at the military base step in front of him, snarls on their faces. They mean business.
I don’t budge. Abby gets out of the boat. I hear the splashing of the water as she makes her way to my side. Her arms are up. She has no weapon. They must see this. I’m glad she’s by my side, I don’t want to die alone.
“However, I do admire your tenacity,” Klein says. “It’s admirable.”
“Where’s Darlene?” I say.
“She’s safe, Jack. Don’t worry.” I’ll believe that when I see it and I’m going to see it. I promise. “I haven’t forgot how you saved me, Jack,” he says. “I’m grateful. I only took Darlene because you were not in your right mind. She’s okay, I promise. She’s right there in that mountain, unharmed.”
“I shouldn’t have saved you,” I say.
Klein grins “But you did, Jack. Now let me save you.”
Fifty-Nine
“Fuck you,” I say.
Klein’s stupid smile evaporates. The men holding their weapons at us, wearing their slick-black suits which seem to shimmer in the moonlight, drop their jaws.
And fuck this. I’m sick of being the nice guy. I’m sick of talking.
So I act because I’m Jack Fucking Jupiter, dropping to my knees, pulling Abby down with me as my hand closes tighter around the cold steel of the pistol.
Yeah, go out with a bang.
Maybe I’m stupid. Maybe I’m a genius. By the sounds of Abby’s shriek of surprise and my own heartbeat in my ear, I’m probably the former.
But sue me. I came here for one reason and the reason wasn’t to be given mercy by Doctor Klein. It wasn’t to fail, either. It was to save Darlene by any means necessary.
So the gun’s in my hand, and like I’ve said before, when the gun’s in my hand, I get this immense feeling of power.
It’s funny how life happens sometimes. And I intend for life to keep on happening.
I have five shots. I’m in the prone position. The air has gotten considerably cooler with the disappearance of the sun, but the bright lights shining down on us from the mountains are almost just as hot and probably three times as brighter. So I’m sweating and my palms are greasy. My clothes are wet, too. There’s still drops of Herb’s blood on my sleeves. Zombie guts.
I aim for the men in front of Klein first.
In Eden, I was fast when pulling on Butch Hazard, but now I’ve grown even faster. The trigger squeezes two times. I hit both men in the throat. The war cry one of them lets out is choked out by my bullet and drowned with blood.
These first shots scramble the rest of the agents. My heart beats a mile a minute. If it were me who took a slug to the neck, I think the amount of blood pumping from the wound would be enough to fill the lake.
It’s only natural for them to break formation. They probably haven’t had anyone stand up to them for a long time. Zombies don
’t count. I’m talking about people who are not rotten enough up top to work a firearm. Two break away to the left and they run almost on top of each other. That’s where my next bullet goes. And I don’t aim for their backs because the slug would lodge in the first one’s expensive suit and I wouldn’t do what I intend to do. No, I aim for their heads.
Two birds, one stone.
I miss.
And I knew I probably would because I’m in the prone position. The sand spills down my shirt. But it’s okay that I’ve missed because I still hit them and where I hit them is probably for the better. It’s much easier for a bullet to travel through the soft flesh of someone’s neck than it is their head, apparently.
The first agent doesn’t even get to scream, but the second one does. I think the bullet gets him in the shoulder. Not a kill shot, but an incapacitate shot. Four down, one to go, and then Klein. Two shots left.
But Klein has taken off, disappearing into the shadows beneath the mountain complex.
Luckily, I have Abby with me and luckily she’s battle tested. Hell, I would’ve even taken her by my side the way she was half a year ago in Woodhaven. She’s always been tough. But now she’s even tougher despite being minus a hand. She’s smart, too.
Smarter than me. She makes a run for the last man. He has turned around and has his gun raised at me. And I scramble up from my prone position.
And I’m quick, but I’m not quick enough to get both of Klein and this last agent.
Abby screams and the agent’s eyes go wide. He aims at her and fires. Time freezes then because I think Abby is going to be turned into Swiss Cheese.
She isn’t. The man doesn’t even get another shot off before she pounces on him. She’s like a linebacker sacking the quarterback, and she hits him hard. I hear a crunch before the plop of their bodies hitting the sand, and the crunch probably comes from this guy’s ribs or his teeth crushing together.
I aim and fire at Klein. He won’t even get to see me kill him.
I don’t care too much.
Miss. The bullet whines off the rock surface.
Damn it.
I sprint after him.
The agent shouts behind me at Abby: “You fucking bitch, I’ll fucking kill you!”
Then a gunshot and Abby saying, “Fucking bitch that.”
Not long after this I hear Abby racing after me, but I’m too focused on Klein.
I’m running too fast. I don’t think I can hit him while I’m running and I have just one bullet left.
Klein reaches a door that looks exactly like the rock facade of the mountains and he pushes a button which glows red at his touch. The rock rises and more light spills out from the inside of the building.
Klein disappears into the shadows and the door starts closing.
“The door!” Abby shouts from behind me.
I stop, I take the shot. But not at Klein because he’s gone.
I hit the button. Bullseye.
The door rises.
The light, which was disappearing like an eyelid slowly closing, increases.
Abby screams, “You got it.”
And I take off running again.
Sixty
The door hasn’t fully opened. There’s just enough room left for us to go through at a crouch, which I don’t like because it puts us at a disadvantage.
So what I do might be the stupidest thing I’ve done in a long while, and I’ve done some pretty stupid things.
I sprint at full speed. The sand up here is densely packed. It’s almost like dirt and there’s no light beating down on us anymore, it’s out at the lake, focused on five dead bodies and a beached row boat. So I can’t see that well. The only guide I have is the light spilling out from the opening.
I’m not Indiana Jones. I’m not James Bond. I don’t have many slick moves in my bag of tricks. I’m not graceful. I’m more of a bull in a China shop type of guy.
But I have to do this because I have to get Darlene.
“Jack!” Abby shouts. Her face, which I see out of the corner of my eye, is a blur, so is the dark carbine she holds in her one good hand.
I’m thinking rockstar. I’m thinking power slide.
I’m thinking, Pain.
Then I do it. I drop at the last possible second to prevent my head from smacking into the rock door at upwards of ten miles per hour and I slide under the small gap.
And boy, is there a lot of pain. My ass feels like it’s on fire. Rough, packed sand is nothing like a musical stage at all.
But it works. I go sliding into the building. Yeah, that’s great and all, but what isn’t is the momentum I’ve built up, which is only slightly slowed down by my ass running along the ground. I don’t hit the door. I hit the wall and I hit the wall hard.
I’m only down for about a second before I spring back up into a crouch with my weapon raised. There’s no one.
The corridor in front of me is empty. The walls are like the inside of a cave. It makes sense, I guess, since we are inside of a mountain. I smell wetness. Old earth. Worms. Dirt. It makes me think of my childhood and playing outside all day in the summer before my crippling social anxiety and love of all things nerdy kept me indoors for much of my teenage years.
Outside of the building, I hear Abby’s footfalls and her breathing.
“Jack!” she shouts. “Jack, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
It’s quiet in here…too quiet. I don’t like it. With the quietness, I can hear my heartbeat and my blood pounding in my ears.
“What happened?” she asks.
She emerges from under the door a few seconds later. She points her carbine down the hallway, which is dimly lit by a stream of lights hanging on the walls. I’m reminded of coal mines. I’m reminded of claustrophobia.
Then she takes one look at me and I don’t have to answer.
“Where is he?” she asks.
I shake my head.
We creep down the corridor. I want nothing more than to run, but I don’t think it would be smart.
The hallway stretches on for what feels like a mile. I can hear lurches and groans from deep within the mountain, sounds of the world, I think. Sounds we probably won’t hear ever again if I don’t catch that rat bastard son of a bitch. The corridor bends until we come upon a stairwell. The stairs are not lit like the corridor and the only light that hits them comes from the top. And it’s just a pinprick of light up there, like looking at the stars from the earth.
Abby and I exchange glances. She has a look on her face that tells me she wants to stop. “You don’t have to go,” I say. “You can stay here and guard my back in case they try to flank us.” We both know that’s a lie. They won’t try to do that. They’re in the safety of their mountain and it’s so quiet in the corridor, we’d hear them coming a mile away.
Abby shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but there’s no enthusiasm in the gesture. “I’m going. Watch me.” And she steps right by me and mounts the steps. She takes them at a light jog.
“Pace yourself,” I say. “Looks like we got a long way to go — ”
Abby stops and looks down at me. I can barely see her face, but from what I can see, she looks confused. “What?”
“Shh!” I say, my finger up to my lips.
Up above, I hear something. It’s a faint tinkling noise. Footsteps on metal.
Abby’s eyes dawn with realization. “Klein,” she says.
And I swear the footsteps and the tinkling get faster. He hears us just as we hear him. Abby turns and takes off up the steps. Now, I follow her.
Sixty-One
We race up the steps until my legs burn worse than my lungs.
Just as we hit the top, I hear a loud thud of a door slamming shut. Not a wooden door, not a normal door at all. It sounds like iron. Like a casket, even.
“It’s too late!” Klein says. “It’s too late. You’re going to hell. You’re all going to hell now. I gave you a chance, Jack! I did.”
We run do
wn the corridor, our footsteps splashing in the puddles on the ground. There’s a constant dripping coming from somewhere. The smell is musty like an old basement, which is the weirdest thing considering we are God knows how many feet from the ground now.
I break into a sprint, urging myself forward. Darlene, I’m thinking. I have to run for Darlene.
I don’t know if there’s an afterlife. I don’t know where we’ll end up. It’s all uncertain, thinking about it scares me so much that I don’t even want to. But what scares me worse than all of the thoughts of God and the Devil are an eternity without Darlene.
I hit the door hard, only letting up at the last moment. I’m not the Incredible Hulk, not Superman. I’m not going to bust this door down with my brute strength — because I have none. I’m going to bust it down with my brains.
Abby’s footsteps rush up behind me. She’s out of breath. Her face is hopeless, eyes drooping low, mouth a grim line.
“Now what?” she asks.
I take the carbine from her. I push her back as I back up myself, aiming the gun. I’m going to shoot it down.
Abby grabs my arm, dropping her own gun. “What? Are you crazy? The bullets are going to ricochet and then we’ll really be done for.”
I blink once, twice. She’s right. I laugh. It’s the laughter of a madman. And I was going to get us out of this with my brains. All of a sudden, I want to collapse unto the rock floor.
Too late. Too late.
“I don’t know,” I find myself saying. I must look pretty dejected because Abby turns away from me and starts scanning the rock corridor we’re in.
I don’t hear Klein’s voice. I don’t hear much of anything anymore except for the constant dripping.
“I wish I had a flashlight,” Abby says.
Drip, drip, drip.
The Dead Collection Box Set #1: Jack Zombie Books 1-4 Page 75