"What's that going to do?"
"We piss in them first. Make urine bombs."
Eli chuckled, "That's funny, man, but other than get the guys wet and funky, what good is it? That's like a college prank, not a rescue mission."
Roger looked at me in horror. "You mean to bring the zombies to their doorstep. A screaming, ravenous horde of them as a distraction."
I nodded, my expression grim. "Yeah, that's exactly what I plan to do."
"That's inhuman, Alex. That's fucked up beyond anything else. They're people, Alex. We can't just feed them to the monsters."
"It's a distraction. The horde starts coming, they sound their alarms, move to the front of the house to mount a defense. That lets us sneak in the back, grab Amy, and go. Once we're clear we come back up here to the jeep and haul ass, heading north, and we don't look back. We go back up to the campsite, find an empty lodge somewhere, and ride out the rest of the year. Listen guys, their defenses will hold. They have their shit together, and I'm sure they've fought off stuff like this before. It's a diversion tactic, that's all."
The truth was I had no idea how well they could defend against a mass of hundreds of those things. It didn't matter to me. I hated these men, these savages that would kidnap a woman and drag her back to their house under duress. The way I saw it, they had given up their claim to human decency, and therefore were just animals themselves. Animals to be led to the slaughter. Even if they wound up turned, forced into an eternal waking death, I didn't care. What were a dozen more monsters in the scope of thousands?
Roger looked at me skeptically. I think he saw the hardness in my eyes. He could see that nothing was going to change my mind. "What'd they do to deserve this, Alex?"
"They don't play well with others. They took shots at us. They were content to leave us for dead, so we may as well return the favor."
"Leave us for dead? Alex, they were shooting wildly. It was a warning at best."
"Yeah? A warning that put out one of our tires. If we didn't have a spare, then what? We were as good as dead without wheels to get us around. We can't survive out here on foot. So, yeah, maybe they were just shooting wildly, but they could have hit us just as easily as they hit the tire. But what happens next time? What happens when we cross paths with one of them when we're out hunting for food, our scrounging for supplies? It's us or them, Roger, so, I choose us, and I am making that choice before they get the chance to. We'll never have any sort of advantage again, so we may as well use it."
Eli nodded emphatically. "Fuckin' A, man! This is our chance to even the score. They fucked with us, so we gotta fuck with them! Show'em we can hold our own."
Roger looked out onto the road, then shook his head. "You're both crazy, but you're right. They're not going to just let us alone. Eventually they'll find a reason to come at us. May as well knock them down a peg while we can. But for the record I still don't like it."
I opened the first bottle of beer and handed it to him. "We're going to have to do a lot of things we don't like if we're going to make it in this world, Roger. May as well start now."
The first bottle shattered against the pavement with a crash, spreading a puddle across the blacktop that glistened in the afternoon sun. We stood on the edge of the rocks, looking down onto the road below. Eli tested the cap on the next bottle, making sure it was still tight, and heaved it into the air, aiming further down the road. We couldn't see where it landed, but we heard the bottle break with a soft pop. Eli gave a self-satisfied nod. "Still got the arm. All those years playing right field finally paid off, man."
I chuckled a little, then handed the last bottle to him. "Aim this one further up. We want to make sure the monsters get most of the way up to the house before they reach the end of the trail. If they're close enough they might abandon the puddles to chase fresh food."
Roger leaned against the side of the Jeep and shook his head. "Never thought we'd be using bottles full of piss as weapon."
The last bottle crashed through the branches, and we heard it break with a muffled tinkle of glass. Then we heard a sound that made our hearts skip a beat and our blood turn to ice - the distinct sound of a shotgun cocking.
We turned in unison, looking to our left, to the source of the sound. There, about twenty feet away, straddling a mountain bike, was a boy, probably only sixteen or seventeen years old, with short blonde hair and a dirty t-shirt, holding a pump action shotgun against his shoulder, aimed directly at us. "Hands up, fuckers!" he blurted out, his voice wavering with nerves.
We slowly lifted our hands above our shoulders. I took a tentative step forward. He aimed the shotgun at my chest.
"Easy there," I said, my tone even and calm, "no need for that."
"What are you throwing? Why are you up here?"
"Just... bottles of old beer. It skunked. Went bad, you know? We were just tossing it off the side cause we could."
"Bullshit! He said they were bottles of piss!"
I cursed inwardly. "Well..." I fumbled my words, trying to look for an explanation.
He tightened his grip on the shotgun, "I should fucking kill you! The zombies can smell piss a mile away! Are..." I could see the realization sinking in, the barrel of the shotgun dipping slightly as he through about it, his guard lowering. "Are you... luring them... to us?"
"No, it's not like that--"
He snarled and took aim again. Roger pushed off of the Jeep and ran at the kid. The shotgun swung towards him. He lowered his shoulder and tackled him, hitting the boy full in the stomach. They fell backward. The shotgun went off, sending a blast into the air above our heads. Roger took the kid down with him in a heap, the bike tangling about their legs. Eli and I took advantage and charged forward. I grabbed at the shotgun, the kid flailing and thrashing against us both. He was wiry and strong, and Roger was struggling to keep him on the ground. Eli grabbed our shotgun out of the Jeep and ran over to us, lowering it right in the kid's face. The boy went limp, staring up into that cavernous barrel. I grabbed his shotgun and pulled it from his hands. Roger stood up, leaving the kid on the ground. legs still tangled in his bike. Tears welled in his eyes, "You fuckers better kill me."
Eli clicked the safety off. "Yeah? Why's that?"
"You think I'm gonna stay quiet? You're trying to kill us all! Making the zombies come right at us! You let me go and we're going to hunt you like dogs. I'll tell my father and we won't sleep till we have your carcasses hanging in the trees!"
Eli's hands shook. He looked at Roger. Roger shook his head just a little. I swallowed, then said "We can trade him. He's leverage, Eli. We can tie him up and bring him down to the house, especially if his father is there, you know? We can trade him his son."
The kid looked back and forth between us, then grinned. "You guys are the assholes from this morning, aincha? The ones in front of Stapleton's! You want your piece of ass back!"
My lips curled in a silent snarl. "Her name is Amy."
"What the fuck ever. Like I care what her name is."
Eli tensed, pushing the barrel of the shotgun against the kid's cheek.
"You're gutless!" the kid spat. "You ain't gonna shoot me. That's why we got your girl. You're just gutless punks! You ain't gonna last two days in this world. I already killed more people than I can count!"
Eli pushed the barrel harder against his face. "Shut the fuck up, man!"
In the distance we heard the sound of a car door closing, and an engine starting. The kid grinned.
"That's Dad now. He knows where I went. He heard the shot. Now he's coming to kill you retards." I growled and kicked the kid in the ribs. He grunted and twisted, holding his chest. "Fuck you, zombie bait!" he wheezed out.
I leaned down and punched him, an arcing blow that smashed into the side of his face and snapped his head to the side. His eyes fluttered and rolled back, and he went limp. I stood back up. "Quick, toss him in the Jeep and let's move."
Eli stayed where he was, standing over the kid's unconscious form. "N
o, man, we gotta kill him."
Roger gasped, "What? He's just a kid!"
"You heard him, man! They're going to hunt us! He'll tell them what we did and they'll chase us all year! We can't get far enough away on what gas we got left! We'll hole up for the winter and they'll find us and kill us!"
I saw the white pickup pass by on the road beneath us, a flash of bright movement through the trees, the engine roaring loudly. "Eli, they're coming, we gotta go. Load him in the Jeep."
"You heard what he said, man! They're--"
"He's just a kid, Eli. He's talking out his ass. His father will want him back, and want him alive. We can trade him for Amy. Load him into the Jeep and let’s drive. Go meet the guy head on."
"It's too late for that, man! We're over the line! They got all those fucking things heading right at them and they don't even know it!"
I nodded, "So let's give them the kid and send them home, and make sure he gets back there fast. Right?"
Eli let out a frustrated groan and tossed the shotgun to me before picking the kid up and dragging him to the Jeep. Roger said nothing. I could see that everything that wasn't packing up immediately and heading for the hills just wasn't a good idea in his mind. I climbed into the driver's seat, leaving Eli with the kid in the back. I handed Roger the shotgun as he got in the passenger seat, "You good?"
"Right as rain." he muttered.
I drove back down the hill, heading for the junction of Route 67. The white truck turned on to Howe, and, seeing us, stopped in the middle of the road. I stopped, facing him. I flashed my lights. He flashed back. I grabbed one of the handguns from between the seats and climbed out of the Jeep, tucking the gun into the waistband of my jeans. The passenger door of the truck opened.
The man that got out looked like he stepped right out of a movie screen. He was over six feet tall, with a Boston Red Sox cap worn back on his baldhead. His silver goatee was thick and bushy, and his sleeveless flannel shirt was tucked tightly into the top of his oil-stained jeans. He carried a shotgun in his right hand, and had a large, pearl handled automatic pistol in a holster at his side. I could tell that these were not guns he salvaged at the last minute. They were as much a part of his wardrobe as the sun-faded cap on his head. We walked towards one another, stopped about fifty feet apart. The sun was reflecting off of the windshield of the truck, making me squint against the glare and making it impossible to see how many others he had with him.
"I heard a shot," he said, his New England accent as thick as an extra from a Stephen King movie, "so either you shot my boy, or he shot one of you."
"He's alive. We have him in the back of the Jeep."
He peered over my shoulder, then spit a thick glob of chewing tobacco juice onto the road. "Well, it seems we have an old-fashioned hostage situation here. Suppose you have your list of demands?"
"The girl, Amy. You grabbed her on the street this morning."
He grinned. His bottom teeth were stained brown. "You want that jezebel back? My other son's taken a shine to her. I don't think he'll likely give her up."
I tensed my jaw. "So you're not willing to give her back to us to get your son back?"
He spit another jet of brown slime onto the pavement. "How about I make you a deal, son? You give me Eric back, and you get to leave town with your head still in one piece." At that two other men stood up in the back of the pickup and aimed rifles at me. The big man chuckled. "You see Eric's my youngest. He's not the brightest bulb in the box, but he's still my blood. I'm not an unreasonable man, but these are unreasonable times. Stockton's my town. No room in it for another band of freeloaders. So you give me Eric, and we let you go. Just drive out, and don't come back."
"And if I say no?"
"Then we gun you down where you stand, kill your friends in the Jeep, and hang you from trees as bait to keep the pests away from the house."
My mouth went dry. Eric wasn't exaggerating about hanging us. That's how they kept the corpses away - they had bodies hung out to draw them away. I gave a nod. "Seems... like I have no choice."
He chuckled again. "Good man. I'll even be neighborly and let you keep everything you got from my town. Call it yours, fair and square, looter's rights. You just turn right around to the end of Howe, then take a right. That'll bring you out to one-thirty-two. Where you go from there is your business."
"He's unconscious."
"We got smellin' salts back at the house. Good to know it took three of ya to take him. Means he'll be a fighter. World needs fighters now."
I nodded, then waved back to the Jeep. Eli climbed out and hauled Eric over one shoulder in a fireman's carry. I turned back to the large man. "Just treat Amy right, okay?"
He shrugged. "Zachary's going to treat her as he sees fit. This isn't a polite world anymore."
My stomach was a knot of outrage, but I held my tongue. Now was not the time to debate human decency with a man that clearly had none. Eli came up to us and set Eric on the ground carefully. He had a welt under his eye where I punched him, but he was clearly alive.
We started backing away. The man gave me a nod and a wave. "Out to one-thirty-two and don't look back. I'm a man of my word. Come back to Stockton, and you're bait."
We turned and walked back to the Jeep. Eli muttered under his breath "We leaving, man?"
I shook my head. "Not yet."
We climbed into the Jeep and turned around, driving back up Howe, out of sight of the truck. Once I was sure they weren't following us I pulled into a driveway and turned onto the front lawn, using the row of trees and bushes to keep the Jeep out of sight of the road.
"Make sure we're locked and loaded all the way around. Grab as many of the pistols as each of you can carry. We go back to the road above their house. As soon as we hear gunfire we know they're under attack. That's our chance. We're not leaving Amy to be Zach's rape-wife."
For the first time I could see they both agreed with me. I think hearing the big man confirm our fears, that Amy was Zach's prisoner and sex slave and no one in that house was going to stop it, made them find their conviction. We got out of the Jeep and armed ourselves. They each carried a shotgun and two pistols. I had the hunting rifle and two pistols of my own, as well as a hunting knife strapped to my thigh. Part of me thought I must look ridiculous, while the other part thought it may not be enough. We honestly had no idea what we were getting ourselves in to.
*****
We walked back to the road and crossed, climbing into the woods on the far side and making our way down the steep incline. We had travelled far enough that the roads were further apart from where we were throwing the bottle, so we didn't have to climb down any sheer rocks on the way. We climbed until we reached the edge of a back yard. The wisp of white smoke was off to our left. I pointed it out to the other guys, "There it is. So we wait till we hear a commotion then we move."
We sat on the grass. No one said a word. Our minds were focused on the task at hand, and what we were about to do. It all seemed like the end of some horrible nightmare. The sun was low in the sky. Soon it would be night again. Twenty-four hours since Jake got bitten. It felt like years had passed.
We didn't wait long. It had barely been half an hour when the first sounds of mayhem started. We could hear the chorus of groans amidst the shouts and gunshots. Car horns blared. I could hear orders being barked. We stood up and made our way quickly across the yard, keeping low as we moved, crossing into the next lawn, then the next. Finally we saw the house, a gray vinyl-sided ranch, surrounded by a stockade-style fence that was clearly a new addition, each section resting at angles to the next, making a zig-zag pattern through the trees. We could hear shouting. The gunfire was an almost constant staccato. We got to the fence and Eli kicked at one of the joints. Wood splintered and cracked. He kicked again. The sections separated, leaving a gap wide enough for us to fit. We pushed through into the yard, but were not prepared for what we saw.
Their defenses were completely down. Whatever perimeter they had had
fallen, and dozens of the monsters were surging forward towards the house. What I thought were screams of excitement and action were actually agonized cries, as clusters of the things swarmed over the men, feasting on them before they could even hit the ground. "Holy shit..." was all I could think to say.
Roger pushed against my shoulder, "House! Go! Go!"
We ran to the back door, climbing onto the small deck. The door was new, made of heavy wood that hadn't even been painted yet. Eli pulled the screen door open and tried the handle. Not surprised to find it locked, he started kicking. He brought his booted foot down heavily beside the handle over and over, each stomp echoing loudly through the house. I could hear screaming from inside; a shrill, panicked scream that intensified with each resounding kick. The zombies surged forward, coming around both sides of the house, their groans rising in volume and intensity. There was no more shouting from the front of the house. No more gunfire. The defenders had been overrun.
The Dead Road: The Complete Collection Page 12