“You want me to buy back what I just gave you for free?” Michael said with a chuckle. “A boy after my own heart. I won’t give you anything for it, but here’s a piece of advice: If you like magic, take this ball to the biggest crowd you can find tonight at six o’clock. Sometime around then, you’ll see something you could never imagine.”
“Will it be a good magic trick?” the smart girl said.
Michael couldn’t help but grin. The kids saw something in his face, probably how his pale white skin bent and twisted unnaturally around the scars around his mouth.
“It’s to die for,” he said. “Adios.”
He turned the handle and zipped off, weaving around the bumps in the road, and left the doomed town of Dustbowl.
8.
TOMMY AND Guy waited patiently as the undead sniffed them. Dogs making new friends. Some snorted, caking Guy in thick green pus. He turned his face away. The more disgust he showed, the more interested they became.
“How come these things like putting this crap over me, but not you?”
He wiped the mucus off his chin with a glove and slapped it over a nearby trashcan lid.
Tommy shrugged. “You must have animal magnetism.”
“Since when?” Guy said. “Now I’ve got it, I’m not sure I want it.”
They paused when they reached the corner. Tommy peered through the sight on his rifle at the house at the top of the road. The only view he could get at it was through the gaps in the bars of the gate.
Half his view was blocked by half a dozen undead. Each time one of them bumped into the gate, it made a loud clang noise.
“See anyone?” Guy said.
“Not on duty. But that doesn’t mean anything. They could be tucked away somewhere, ready to spring at a moment’s notice.”
“How do you suggest we get in?”
“It’s a hedge. We’ll crawl through.”
They took off at a run, crossed the street, and dropped to their knees before the hedge. They lay flat on their chests and scrambled forward on their forearms. Tommy emerged first and covered them.
Leading up to the house from the gate was a straight drive. It fed onto a large forecourt. No cars were parked on it.
“Run to the front of the house and cover me when I follow,” Tommy said. “Go!”
Guy bolted across the lawn as fast as his legs could carry him. He wasn’t very fast. He reached the wall and took a few steps back to cover the house.
Tommy ran at a fast jog. He could come to a stop and open fire if anyone appeared. No one did.
“All right,” Tommy said, panting. “Now we’re going inside the building. Follow me, keep close, and watch our backs.”
“You’re really putting me through my paces today.”
Tommy assumed a crouch position. The wall they moved along narrowed as they reached the hill’s peak. Tommy glanced over the side. He aimed his rifle at the French doors that led inside.
He edged forward and rested his hand on the handle. He added pressure and shoved it aside. It slid easily beneath his fingers.
Before him was a vast open-plan space. It had a fireplace, a huge TV, and three long sofas arranged in a U shape. On his right, a short flight of stairs that led to the mezzanine floor.
Tommy took the steps up slowly. At the top, he found another area, almost as large as the one below. A stylish metal railing ran around the edges to prevent anyone from pitching over the side. A large dining area spilled out onto a broad wooden balcony.
“Where is everybody?” Guy said.
“I don’t know. Let’s check the rest of the house.”
They moved back down the steps and entered via an archway into the second half of the building. A large kitchen. The kind fans of cookery shows swooned over in their favorite magazines.
Back in the hall, stairs wound up one wall and then turned back on itself. This was where the bedrooms were kept. Five of them, all neat and tidy with not a stitch out of place. Out the window, facing the large backyard, was a long dry swimming pool.
“Final floor,” Tommy said. “The basement.”
They followed the stairs back down. At the bottom was a dark hallway that stretched away in both directions. Tommy clutched his rifle tight to his chest. He nodded to the nearest exit. Guy watched their rear as Tommy approached it.
“Cool,” Guy said.
The floor fell away, slipping down a ramp that led to a huge screen at the front of the room. A hundred empty seats sat facing it in anticipation. But no movie would begin. Not for a while.
“No one’s here,” Tommy said.
“Where do you suppose they took him?”
“If Hawk’s anywhere, I thought he’d be here.”
He felt disappointed. He’d been certain they would find him here, tucked away in a dark room somewhere.
Hawk. Where are you?
9.
KEVIN LOVED nothing more than playing with his toys in the backyard. He loved the feel of the dirt between his fingers and the sun on his face. When the wind blew, it was cool and brought with it the smell of dandelions from Mrs. Henderson’s garden next door. But that was during the summer. During the winter, it smelled fusty and old, like Mrs. Henderson herself.
He often saw various bugs and creepy crawlies too. They always made him mom squeal and run back into the house. He used them as part of his adventures. He’d been all over the world in his backyard. And some places that only existed in his mind too.
“Hey. Kid.”
Kevin looked up to see a man standing at their green picket fence. He leaned against it. It bulged inwards slightly beneath his weight. He wasn’t anywhere near the gate, so he had no intention of joining him in the garden.
The man was tall, his face very pale. He should play more in the sun, Kevin thought. Kevin raised a hand to block the sun. He saw the man more clearly now and regretted it the moment he did.
He caught a glimpse of the man’s face and suddenly felt a loosening of his bowels. He felt like he needed to go to the bathroom.
“What are you up to?” the man said.
“Playing,” Kevin said, eyes down. The game didn’t seem so interesting now.
“Cool. What game?”
“Monsters and dragons.”
“Monsters, huh? Yeah. I see those sometimes too.”
The man did look a bit like one of the pale-skinned warriors from his make-believe world. Maybe one of the powerful magical elf clans.
“I like playing games too,” the man said. “Want to see one of my favorite toys?”
Kevin glanced back at the house, unsure. The man reached behind him and opened a little wooden door. Kevin went up on his toes but couldn’t peer over the fence. He’d always had a fascination with doors. In his make-believe world, doors could lead anywhere you wanted them to.
Something rattled, reminding Kevin of Christmas baubles in the bottom of the Christmas decorations box. The man came out with something.
For a moment, Kevin thought it was a bauble. The sunlight caught it and blinked off its hard metal outer shell. It was the coolest bauble Kevin had ever seen.
The man extended it to Kevin, who held out his hand. He reached for it, then hesitated. He remembered something his mother had told him.
“I shouldn’t,” he said.
“Why not?”
“You’re a stranger.”
“Take this toy, and we’re not strangers anymore, right? We’ll be friends.”
Kevin perked up at the idea.
“We will?” he said.
“Sure. Friends share things.”
Even more than toys, the one thing Kevin wanted was a good friend. This guy was a little old, but he’d never met another kid who liked playing with toys like he did. Everyone else was only interested in computer games. That didn’t seem like fun to Kevin. All the imagining had been done for them.
His mom was always telling him to make more friends. How could he do that if he wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers? Everyone
was a stranger before they became friends.
He reached out with his small hand and took the little ball. It was heavy. He held it in both hands and clutched it to his chest. It felt expensive. And now it was his.
“I have to go now,” the man said.
“Oh,” Kevin said, not bothering to hide his disappointment.
He extended his arms to hand the ball back to the man.
“No, it’s all right,” the man said. “Keep it. I want you to have it.”
“But it’s your favorite.” Kevin couldn’t ever imagine being separated from Red Beam, his favorite dragon.
“I have many of these,” the man said. “You can have that one.”
Kevin looked at his reflection in the metal ball’s outer shell. His face was warped and stretched beyond recognition. He could have been someone else.
The man looked down at Kevin. He had a strange expression on his face. Kevin thought the man looked. . . unsure.
“On second thought, maybe. . . maybe I should keep it,” the man said.
The man reached over the fence and froze. Looking up, he saw something in the direction of Kevin’s house.
Kevin checked over his shoulder and saw the nets over the windows move back into place. His mom was watching. She’d probably seen them. She’d come out here and shout at Kevin’s new friend.
“You should probably go—” Kevin said, turning to the man.
He was gone.
On cue, his mother appeared it the doorway.
“Who were you talking to?” she said.
She had her hands on her hips. That meant she was serious and might shout at him. It only occurred to Kevin then that he hadn’t asked the man for his name. That’s what friends were supposed to do. They were supposed to say, “Hello, my name is Kevin. What’s yours?”
Kevin settled for “Nobody.”
“I saw you talking to someone. A man. Did you recognize him?”
“No.”
His mom’s tone stiffened. “What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”
Kevin’s neck retracted like a turtle’s head in its shell. “Don’t talk to them.”
“That’s right. If you see him again, you come find me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Come inside. Lunch is ready.”
Kevin was about to put the ball down with his other toys when he felt that weight. Someone would come and steal it. If the man came back, he’d want it back. What would he say to his friend then?
He tucked the ball in the wide front pocket of his sweater. It sagged in the middle. That was good. No chance he could lose it.
He waddled after his mother and entered the house.
10.
“WE’LL FIND him,” Guy said. “The military’s going to carry out their sweep soon. They might find him then.”
Tommy could already imagine the error in judgment, mistaking Hawk for a zombie due to his appearance, and accidentally pumping him full of lead. They wouldn’t even know they’d done it. He would die, scooped up amongst a thousand other dead bodies and dumped in the back of a truck to be mass incinerated.
Tommy withdrew the flare from his backpack and set it off. The flare burst into life. He placed it on the ground, facing up, and let the smoke and bright shining light flash.
Wherever he was, he was going to have to help himself. There was nothing they could do to help him now. Michael was their target. They couldn’t let him slip through their fingers.
The helicopter thudded as it drew closer. The grass writhed in a vortex formed by the powerful propeller blades.
“Uh, Tommy,” Guy said.
He pointed down the hill, in the direction of a thick hedgerow. It shivered and shook. Arms sprouted through the foliage, blossoming clawed white limbs. The hedge bent over, snapping beneath the weight of dozens of undead.
Tommy’s instinct was to stand and fight, but he knew that wouldn’t work. The zombies would keep coming ceaselessly, thicker and faster until they overwhelmed both them and the helicopter.
They climbed aboard and opened fire.
“Go, go, go, go, go!” Tommy shouted over the din.
The pilot couldn’t hear him, but he could see his waving arm. The chopper rose, tilted forward, and took off.
The zombies rushed the aircraft, reaching up with their torn hands as Tommy and Guy unloaded into them. The men lost their balance and braced themselves with a hand to the ceiling. They blasted those who clung to the struts, leaving nothing but bloody smears.
“That was close, huh?” Guy shouted.
Tommy couldn’t hear him, so he cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted again.
Tommy nodded, a grin on his face. At least something good had come from this.
The pilot said something, but it was lost over the roaring motor blades.
“What?” Guy said.
Tommy grabbed a helmet and slid it on over his head. He pulled the microphone down. The majority of the sound was cut out immediately.
“Did you get them all?” the pilot said.
“I’ll check.”
“What’s going on?” Guy said.
“Grab my legs.”
“Huh?”
Tommy lay on the floor and edged over the side. He inched lower and felt the pressure on his legs as Guy rested his weight across him.
Tommy couldn’t miss the undead clinging to a strut by a single arm. It reached up, attempting to swing its other arm up to no avail.
Tommy brought his rifle down and aimed. It was much harder to fire upside down. Everything felt backward. He fastened the rifle to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger, spraying the zombie with bullets.
The creature maintained its grip. Tommy took more careful aim and blew the creature’s head from its shoulders. And still, it held on.
Tommy fired at the creature’s wrist. It took several shots but he finally nailed it. The bone snapped and the flesh tore loose. The creature fell to the ground far below. Its hand remained, firm and strong, long bones of the ulna and radius protruding, glazed with blood.
Tommy reached up and waved his arm. It was the signal for Guy to pull on his legs, easing him up.
“Got him?” Guy said.
“Most of him.”
Tommy sat up and climbed into a seat, strapping himself in.
“When you get back to base,” Tommy said to the pilot, “land a little further away than usual and get the quarantine guys to take a look at the struts.”
“Will do, over,” the pilot said.
They sure didn’t want any more of the virus to escape.
11.
NO MATTER how hard the kids tried, they simply couldn’t make the ball fun to play with. They threw it at the wall but it wouldn’t bounce back. They threw it to one another but it was too heavy and made their arms hurt.
The oldest boy, Craig, liked to throw the ball as hard as he could. The others didn’t like to catch it as it always hurt. They covered their heads and let the ball fall to the ground. Craig called them wusses and laughed uproariously. At least someone was getting some enjoyment out of the thing.
“Do you think what the man said was true?” Craig said. “That it does magic?”
“Nah,” the smart girl, Lisa, said. “He just wanted to get shot of it, and us, without having to give us money.”
“Cheapskate.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
They were going to have to wait until the evening to see what the orb could do. Finding a large crowd in Dustbowl was as likely as the ball working the way the man had said.
“Heads up!” Craig said, launching the metal ball at the others.
They ducked their heads and crouched, moving out of the way. The ball smacked into an upturned rock and bounced left, striking the brick wall.
Craig laughed, slapping his knee.
“You bunch of wusses!” he said.
“You asshole!” Lisa said, straightening up. “You could have hurt somebody!”
“No
body important,” Craig said.
Lisa bent down and picked up the metal ball.
“And what do you think you’re going to do with that?” Craig said, folding his arms, oozing confidence.
He was right. Lisa would never throw it to hurt anyone. She wasn’t cruel enough.
“That’s why you belong to me,” Craig said. “And you always will.”
A dark shape loomed behind Craig. Lisa’s eyes widened with fear. She pointed and screamed: “Watch out!”
Craig turned. Too slow as a pair of arms wrapped around him. One tightened his neck in its spindly crook. The other held his wrist tight, keeping his arm locked straight.
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Craig said, attempting to turn his head around. He managed to and ended up wishing he hadn’t.
It was Old Man Marley.
He’d been named after the Charles Dickens character, the posthumous partner of Scrooge who died seven years before the story began. He was known as the meanest man in town. If you kicked your ball into his yard, prepare to leave it there indefinitely. No one was brave enough to cross into his yard to retrieve it. Even the kids’ parents. They’d been afraid of the old man when they’d been kids too.
The man moved like a wraith, turning up suddenly when you least expected it. He’d caused several heart attacks over the years. No one knew quite how old Marley was.
His latest victim was Craig. He had his cold arms wrapped around Craig tight. Stuck in an inescapable prison.
The rest of Craig’s gang looked up from the conversation they were having and approached cautiously.
“How’re you children doing? All right?” Old Man Marley said.
The kids looked at their shoes and kicked their feet.
“This boy was throwing things at you,” Old Man Marley said. “I suspect you’ll be wanting an apology.”
The kids looked at each other. Two looked at Lisa and nodded their heads forward for her to speak.
“Well?” Old Man Marley said. “Do you want an apology or don’t you?”
Craig struggled against his captor, but the old man only stiffened his grip. Craig snorted, struggling to breathe.
Death Squad (Book 2): Zombie State Page 3