Rocky Mountain Die

by Jake Bible

  “It’s an old Barnes and Noble,” Stella says. “Closest building that isn’t burned to the ground.”

  “Except for the Payless Shoe Source next door,” Stuart says. “But that place was full of Zs. Someone lured them inside then locked them up. You can see them pressed up against the glass windows.”

  Stuart looks about and picks up a broom from the floor. He unscrews the head and tosses it then grips the handle tight as he looks back at us.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Yes,” Stella says.

  “Aaayyy,” I say and nod.

  White hot pain!

  Nodding is bad. No more nodding.

  “Don’t nod,” Stella says quietly in my ear. “You’re bleeding bad and you’re going to make it worse.”

  “Aaayyy,” I reply.

  “I know head wounds bleed a lot,” Stella says. “But you don’t have a head wound. You just had brain surgery.”

  “Aaayyy,” I say.

  “Don’t argue with me,” she snaps.

  I speak only in Fonzese and still lose the argument. That’s life, folks.

  Stella weaves us through the piles of books and broken shelves until we get to the swinging double doors that will take us out into the store. One of the doors is broken off its hinges and leans against the wall while the other just hangs there, looking sad and alone.

  Stuart walks out into the store and stops. We wait a minute then he waves us forward. When we get next to him, Stella and I both gasp.

  Every inch of the bookstore floor is covered in desiccated corpses; dried out husks of people long-since dead.

  Stuart pushes bodies out of the way so Stella can wheel me down the aisle. I don’t dare move my head to get a good look at the bodies, but there are so many that I don’t really have to strain to see what happened.

  Suicide. We’ve seen it before, but not on this scale. You come across people in their beds or in their cars, their heads blown open from self-inflicted gunshots. But this looks like poisoning. Sort of.

  “Families,” Stella says, her voice choked up. “Look at them holding each other. Holding hands.”

  “They probably drank something,” Stuart says. “See the small cups?”

  I’d make a Jonestown joke, but that would be cruel. This wasn’t a cult. This was the last days of desperate, scared people.

  Stuart crouches by a family of four. The bodies are so decayed that I have no idea what the genders of these people were, but they obviously cared for each other. Their last embrace is proof of that.

  “Someone went around and pierced their skulls once they were gone,” Stuart says. “You can see the entry wounds by their temples.”

  “Then someone didn’t take the poison,” Stella says. “And could still be walking around.”

  “True,” Stuart says. “If they stuck around.”

  We get to the center of the store, right where the old escalators are and then stop. We quickly have our answer.

  Swaying slightly, its neck held tightly by a noose made from an orange extension cord, is a Z. Its eyes roll in its head, cloudy, grey orbs that no longer see anything. The tips of the thing’s fingers twitch as we move closer, its animal brain alerted by the soft noise of our feet and wheels.

  “Get it down and put it out of its misery,” Stella says quietly. “Why didn’t it stab itself also? Would have been easy.”

  “Would it?” Stuart asks as he climbs cautiously up the escalator to the second floor.

  He works at the extension cord knot that holds it to the second floor railing until it comes free and the Z comes crashing down. Its limbs snap off instantly, the tendons and ligaments so dry. But the head is still intact and the cloudy eyes search for us, knowing prey is close, knowing food is only a step away.

  Stuart tosses the broom handle down to Stella and my wife doesn’t even hesitate. She catches the handle, walks up to the Z, and stabs it through the skull. The eyes stop rolling, stop searching, go still. Normally, after stabbing a Z, you’d flick off the gunk, but this thing is so dried out there’s barely anything on the end of the handle. Stella wipes off what little mess there is on the old carpet and steps back from the silenced Z.

  “I hate to say it,” Stuart sighs from above us, “but it looks like upstairs is the best place to hole up. There’s old bedding and mattresses up here already. Only way up is the escalators, so it’s easy to defend.”

  “Okay,” Stella sighs as well.

  Yeah, they’re sighing because of me. I get that.

  It takes them a while to carry me and my wheelchair up the escalator. It takes them almost as long to get me out of the wheelchair and onto a pallet of thin, twin mattresses and moth-eaten blankets. I don’t get to lie down since that would probably kill me, so Stella props me up with old pillows and paperback books.

  “You okay?” she asks me.

  “Aaayyy,” I reply and give her a thumb-up. “Aaayyy.”

  “One time is fine, Jace,” she smirks then kisses my cheek. “Stuart and I are going to find some water. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Ha, ha, fucking ha.

  ***

  I drift off and find myself coming to now and again. Sometimes Stella is next to me, sometimes Stuart is. At one point I smell food and I think I taste it too, but I can’t be sure. I don’t feel quite as hungry as I did. I know they found water because my throat isn’t all sandpaper land anymore. That’s nice. Now my aaayyys will have more punch.

  The pain never goes away, though. Whether I’m awake or out, it’s a constant. The blood doesn’t feel like it’s still flowing, but that could just be because I’ve lost so much that there isn’t enough to flow. For once, I actually wish one of the doctors was with me. Yeah, I’m that desperate to stay alive.

  There’s no light coming from outside, so I know the sun has set, but I have no idea what time it is. It could be early night or early morning. I move my eyes to the side, and catch a glimpse of Stella and Stuart sleeping on the floor by me. No one is standing watch. Fuck. Another sign that we are totally screwed. If Stuart thinks he needs rest more than we need someone to stand watch then our chances are no longer a coin flip, but a fucking lottery ticket.

  Hold on… Uh… If Stella and Stuart are asleep on the floor, and no one is standing watch, then who the hell is that right by the stand of Goosebumps books?

  “Aaayyy,” I say. “Aaayyy.”

  “Hello, Jace,” a woman whispers. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Aaayyy!” I try to yell, but the exertion sends waves of mind searing pain through my head.

  Everything starts to swim and go wonky as the woman takes a step towards us, something sharp and metal glinting in her hand. She raises the glinty, sharp metal and that’s when my brain has finally had it.

  Night night, Jacey. Time for Long Pork to take a nap.

  Wonder if I’ll wake up from this one?

  Chapter Two

  Once we crossed into Colorado, we knew shit was fucked up.

  Snowy plains and nothing but Zs as far as the eye could see.

  Okay, that’s a little hyperbolic. There were Zs for a couple miles, not as far as our eyes could see. Not that my eyes were seeing a whole lot, what with the freakin’ migraines that kept slamming into my noggin.

  “Take these,” Stella said, her hand out and a pile of ibuprofen stacked in her palm. “They’re only 100mg each. Dr. McCormick is keeping the stronger stuff for when we really need it.”

  “I’m good,” I said, gently pushing her hand away. “That shit’s starting to make my stomach burn.”

  Stella hesitates and I can see the argument in her eyes, but she sighs and pockets the pills. “Later then.”

  I squint against the morning light that filters into the truck depot we’d stopped at the night before. Looked like some agriculture shipping hub. A hard snow squall came ripping through and we needed to get the RVs and other vehicles we’d picked up along the way under cover ASAP. We’d already lost one RV to bad weather and we could
n’t afford to lose any more.

  “Six more gone,” Stuart said as he stepped into our RV, cold mother-fucking air following him like a deathly spectre.

  Deathly spectre. Good one. I like that. Man, I sure can tell a story.

  Yes, you can, Jace. Keep telling it. Come on. Don’t be shy.

  Uh...what?

  “All cannies?” Stella asked.

  “Yeah,” Stuart replied. “No bodies anywhere. John’s been out with some of Lourdes’s people since dawn. No tracks. Nothing.”

  “Where’s Elsbeth?” I asked. “She have anything to say about this? It’s her sisters doing this shit. Picking us off one by one.”

  Good. Ask about Elsbeth. Where is she? Keep going, Jace.

  “Six went missing, Jace,” Stuart said. “That’s hardly one by one. That’s an assault.”

  “So? Where’s El?” I asked again.

  “She’s working with Charlie,” Stella responded.

  She looked a bit nervous, so I raised my eyebrows in that “what’s up?” look. Raising one’s eyebrows can hurt like a mother fuck when you have a migraine. Ow.

  “What are they working on?” I asked.

  “Killing,” Stuart said, ignoring the sharp look Stella shot at him. “Killing anything that gets too close. Your boy is a good shot, she’s making him a great shot. Not to mention the knife work.”

  “And she didn’t ask us? We’re the parents,” I snapped.

  “That’s what I said,” Stella replied. “But she just shrugged and turned away.”

  “And Charlie?” I asked.

  “His argument is that he needs to know how to fight people,” Stella said. “He can fight Zs, but people are a whole other thing.”

  “He has a point,” Stuart said. “People are a whole other thing. Doesn’t matter how many Zs are out there, all it takes is one asshole with a pistol to end it all.”

  “All it takes is one Z chomping through his skin to end it all,” I said.

  Stuart nodded towards Stumpageddon, my missing arm, and smiled. “That so?”

  “Fuck off. You know what I mean,” I snapped.

  There was a knock behind him and the door opened. Stuart moved out of the way as Lourdes, Melissa, Critter, John, and Buzz came inside. I thought the door was going to close, but Mr. Flips, the unofficial canny leader, followed behind, hurrying inside and closing the door right away.

  “Traveling in the winter across Colorado is fun,” Mr. Flips said. “Anybody else having as much fun as I am?”

  “Can’t feel my balls or my toes,” Critter said. “Damn barrel of fun.”

  “Search parties are back,” Lourdes said, getting right to business like always. “We have some fuel, a little bit of food, and more ammunition. There’s a small town a couple miles away. It’s been picked over, but not by a big group otherwise it’d have been stripped clean.”

  “Found two skinned bodies too,” John said. “Same bloody writing as the others. El’s sisters sure don’t like disloyalty.”

  “Loyalty above all else again?” Stella asked.

  Loyalty above all else.

  I don’t...what is that?

  “Yep,” John nodded. “Loyalty above all else.”

  “Were they two of yours?” I asked Mr. Flips.

  “I don’t think so,” Mr. Flips said. “I didn’t recognize the faces.”

  “How the hell could ya?” Critter cackled. “Their goddamn faces were gone.”

  “I put the skin back on the heads,” Mr. Flips said. “Only way to know for sure.”

  “Well, bein’ a canny and all, I guess you’d have that skill set,” Critter nodded, his body language saying he was ready to bust some balls. “Was it weird puttin’ the skin on instead of takin’ off?”

  “Former canny,” Mr. Flips replied. He was obviously pissed at Critter’s comments. I could see him wanting to respond, but he kept himself in check. “Same with the rest of my people.”

  “Our people,” Stuart said. “We’re one group now. We’ve lost too many to stay divided.”

  “I agree one hundred percent,” Lourdes said, looking at Mr. Flips. “You have to tell your people that. Maybe it’ll keep them from deserting.”

  “Hold on?” I asked. “I thought we were in agreement that it’s Elsbeth’s sisters that are snagging folks?”

  “Not anymore,” John said. “The skinned bodies are the work of the sisters. Elsbeth has pretty much acknowledged that. But the cannies going missing I think is attrition. They don’t have confidence in our goal of getting to the Stronghold and are making out on their own whenever they can.”

  “Do ya blame ‘em?” Critter asked. “Shit, I don’t have much confidence in our goal. We should have hunkered down a while ago and sat it all out until winter was over. Only reason we’re pushing on is because that damn girl won’t let us stop. I’m thinkin’ we need to reconsider that strategy, that’s what I’m thinkin’.”

  “You ain’t thinking at all, Critter,” Elsbeth said from behind us, walking out of the back bedroom.

  “What the fuck, El?” I said. “Have you been back there the whole time?”

  “Most of the time,” Elsbeth said. “I was taking a nap.”

  I looked at Stella and she just shrugged.

  “Where’s Charlie?” I asked.

  “He’s playing with the soldier boys,” Elsbeth said. “Learning how to get his ass beat without dying. Good thing to learn.”

  “You have him training with my PCs?” Lourdes snapped. “I did not authorize that.”

  Elsbeth shrugged. “I did.”

  “Listen here, girl,” Lourdes said, moving at Elsbeth a lot faster than usually prudent. Surprisingly, Elsbeth let her. “There is a chain of command around here. When it comes to all military and defense issues, that chain begins and ends with me. Do you understand? You don’t tell my people to do anything.”

  “I thought we was all one people?” Elsbeth asked, that dangerous smirk on her face. “Ain’t that what Stuart said? We is all one people? No cannies, no PCs, just people. The Whispering Pines Express. Heading one way to Hell.”

  “You’ve been talking with Charlie way too much,” Stella sighed. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “Boy has a lot of good things to say,” Elsbeth replied. “More than you two know.” She pointed at everyone. “More than most of you know. But, I guess he’s just a kid and not really part of you people.”

  She flipped us off with both fingers then slowly backed into the bedroom. We all just stared, stunned as fuck. After a few seconds she came sauntering out, a huge grin on her face.

  “How was that? Charlie said that flipping people off and backing out of a room looked cool. Did it look cool?” Elsbeth asked, genuinely interested in our opinions.

  “It looked cool,” I admitted.

  “Do not encourage this,” Stella said, standing up. “I’m going to find our son and slap some sense into him.”

  “Ain’t no need,” Elsbeth said, exasperated. “Ain’t you all listening? He has plenty of sense.”

  “Regardless of your son’s sense,” Lourdes said, looking at us, “we have business to discuss.” Then she pointed at Elsbeth. “We still aren’t done talking about you ordering my people around.”

  “I think we are,” Elsbeth said. Then flipped us off and backed into the bedroom again.

  “Too much, El!” I called after her. “You lose the effect if you do it repeatedly.” No response. “El?”

  We all waited then Stella sighed and walked back into the RV’s bedroom.

  “She’s gone,” Stella said as she came back out.

  “Okay, then that works,” I said. “I’ll tell her later.”

  Everyone glared at me.

  “What?” I asked. “It’s both ironic and effective to actually do it again and then sneak out the back window.”

  “You’re like a five year old sometimes,” Stuart sighed.

  “Sometimes?” Critter laughed.

  “Can we please discuss our nex
t move?” Lourdes growled, done with the pleasantries. Not that pleasantries are her thing.

  Where are my sisters?

  What? Okay, I am more than certain I wasn’t hearing voices in my head back then. What the fuck is this?

  “Denver is only a little over one hundred miles away,” Lourdes says. “One hundred. We can do that in a couple of days, even with the weather.”

  “Doesn’t look so great out there,” I said.

  Everyone turned and looked out from the truck bay the RV was huddled up in. A lot of shitty snow was blowing this way and that. A lot.

  “No choice,” Lourdes said. “We have enough food and fuel to get us to Denver now. If we wait much longer then we run low on both and risk getting snowed in.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do we have to have this conversation every damn time? If the goal is to get to the Stronghold in Boulder then we need to get there now. The longer we wait, the worse the weather is going to be. Winter doesn’t end by the calendar in Colorado. March and even April can have some nasty storms come through.”

  “Well fuck March and April, then,” I said. “They can kiss my ass.”

  Everyone turned and looked at me. I could see the worry on their faces which usually meant that I’d said something wrong in a weird way.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Why did you mention your dad?” Stella asked.

  “Huh? I didn’t,” I replied. “I said fuck March and April. I was making a joke.”

  “No, you said your dad wasn’t going to be at the game,” Stuart said. “Then you whistled.”

  “Ha ha ha, guys,” I responded, lifting my one middle finger. “Is this funny to you? Mess with brain-addled Jace? Good one.”

  Then shit went really weird.

  Skip that, please. Get to the road.

  What? No, I can’t just skip the fact I had my first seizure. Wait…

  Then tell the story. But hurry, Jace. Time is ticking.

  I’m really confused.

  ***

  “Jace? Baby?” Stella asked. “Wake up, Jace. Can you hear me? Wake up.”

  “I can hear you,” I said and tried to sit up, but Stenkler was there and he pushed me back down.