Plague Town

by Dana Fredsti

  The whole strategy thing gave me a headache.

  After about half an hour, Gabriel pulled the SUV into a cedar-chip-and-dirt parking lot. The tourist trap had been around since the 1950s, one of the more popular stops on the way up through Northern California. It boasted a souvenir shop with carved bears, eagles, totem poles, and bootleg Disney characters carved from redwoods. There was a motel comprised of twelve quaint log cabins, and a coffee shop claiming “the best mochas in the Pacific Northwest.” There was even a drive thru redwood on the property, but it had been blocked off ever since a Hummer got wedged in the middle and had to be extracted with a winch.

  There were about a dozen other vehicles in the lot, some parked neatly at the edge, others skewed haphazardly as if the drivers had skidded to a halt in a hurry. The front passenger door of an old blue Chevy Impala hung wide open, and I could see blood pooled among the wood chips underneath.

  No sign of unlife as we piled out of the truck, but the fog was thick enough to mask a lot of activity.

  Piles of redwood burls were stacked up on the porch along with the wooden sculptures. A seven-foot redwood Bigfoot, arms outstretched menacingly, loomed at the base of the stairs. Donald Duck peeked out of the fog from his perch on the landing and a large eagle sat on the railing, wings in perpetual flight.

  The eerie silence combined with the mist actually made old Bigfoot look kind of scary.

  I adjusted my gear, making sure my weapons were in place, my M-4 at the ready, and my hair still tucked beneath my helmet. The rest of the wild cards were all doing the same—including Kaitlyn, who seemed unusually tense, even for her.

  Her expression was pinched, almost haunted, as she looked around. If she’d been anyone else, I’d have asked what was wrong and tried to help. But I preferred not to have my head bitten off, thank you very much. Especially by a fellow human.

  We’d opted to go without nose plugs this trip, to give us the advantage of an extra warning system. The heavy fog was deceptive, dispersing scents and muffling sounds, making it hard to pinpoint directions. Given that the zombies could approach from any direction through the surrounding woods, it seemed better to have all our enhanced senses up and running.

  In fact...

  I caught a whiff of something rotten. A branch cracked beneath a foot, off to my left at the edge of the parking lot.

  “Incoming,” I said as a friggin’ ginormous male lurched out of the fog like something out of—you guessed it—a horror movie.

  This porker was fatter by far than the pudgy businessman who’d first taken a bite out of me. Its blue-and-red checked flannel shirt could have doubled as a tablecloth, and I didn’t know they made jeans that size. Rolls and ripples of pasty sallow-green flesh flashed where the hem of the shirt couldn’t quite meet the waistband, which was doing its best to hide under all the stomach fat.

  I didn’t see any obvious causes of death—no bites, scratches or other injuries. In fact, other than a little gore around the mouth and the definite undead tint to its flesh and eyes, this guy looked fairly normal. I’d have put money on a heart attack.

  Can you turn after you’re already dead? I wondered.

  It stretched out its arms as best it could, gave a pathetic, hungry moan, and continued to lurch toward us.

  “Whoa, dude!” Tony laughed. “Last thing you need is more food.” He turned to us. “He’s as big as the fuckin’ Death Star.”

  “Jenny Craig time for you, fellah,” I muttered, unsheathing my sword.

  “Oh, come on,” Tony whined. “Lemme have this one, Ash.”

  “No fair,” I protested. “I smelled him first.”

  “Pu-leeeeze?”

  I rolled my eyes and gave a little gesture.

  “Go for it.”

  “You’re too nice,” Kai said. “That one’s gotta be worth a lot of points.”

  “Nah,” Gentry replied. “Too slow. Easy target. Biggest problem is if it falls on top of you. But Tony would have to be pretty damned clumsy to let that happen.”

  “Wanna place bets?” Kai grinned.

  “Hey, I heard that, Lando,” Tony growled.

  “You just be careful there, Joystick.”

  Tony growled again, but chose not to reply.

  We all watched as he plucked a sledgehammer from the porch, then casually strolled up to the Death Star zombie, easily hefting the weapon with both hands. It cracked me up, ’cause I expected him to see how hard he could ring the bell at the fair.

  Unable to resist the cheap shot, Tony swung the hammer like a baseball bat and hit the zombie in its gut, no doubt expecting to knock it on its ass.

  Whomp!

  The hammer bounced back as if made of rubber, and the unexpected rebound knocked Tony on his ass.

  Even Gabriel smiled.

  Death Star moaned again, its attention now fully on its fallen prey.

  “Get a move on, kid.” Gentry said, tapping an imaginary watch. “Plenty more to kill without you messing around.”

  Tony scowled and scrambled to his feet. He circled behind Death Star and without further ado smashed the sledgehammer against the back of its skull, once, then twice. The zombie staggered forward, and then toppled over onto its belly with the slow majesty of a downed redwood. The ground shook as it hit, bits of dust and redwood chips flying up and out from the point of impact.

  It was unfortunate the thing landed face down, because we were all treated to the unlovely sight of very fat, rotting plumber’s crack.

  Tony raised his hammer for one last blow to its skull.

  Keee-runch. Dead zombie.

  Wiping the head of the sledgehammer on Death Star’s flannel shirt, he grinned in satisfaction.

  “Let’s see how many ghouls heard the big fat moaning dinner bell,” he said.

  Sure enough, more moans drifted through the fog, coming from all around, signaling the approach of more zoms. A door creaking on its hinges turned our attention to the souvenir shop. A tiny female tugged open the heavy wooden door, squeezing through the opening. It couldn’t have been more than five years old when it had died, filthy blond hair in braided pigtails tied off in jaunty pink ribbons that matched the color of its T-shirt and frilly little skirt. Large chunks of flesh were missing from its neck, arms and shoulders.

  It saw us and eagerly staggered towards the stairs, sad hungry mewls emanating from its mouth.

  Someone gasped.

  I turned to find Kaitlyn staring at the little girl zombie with an expression of such sorrow and agony it almost hurt me just to see it. I remembered the story she’d told about watching her friend and the friend’s daughter being ripped to pieces in front of her.

  Oh jeez... it can’t be.

  “Megan...”

  Kaitlyn’s agonized whisper told me it could, and it was. A wave of pity swept over me and it didn’t matter that I knew it wouldn’t be welcome. The raw pain on her face demanded it.

  Mack stepped forward and unholstered his M-4. His eyes were leaking slow, steady tears as he took careful aim and pulled the trigger. The zombie collapsed at the top of the stairs and Kaitlyn gave a great keening wail, knees crumbling underneath her as if they couldn’t support the weight of her grief.

  Mack went to hug her, but she pushed him away and then held herself, arms crossed protectively across her chest as she rocked back and forth in time to her sobs.

  But we didn’t have time to comfort her. Other zombies staggered out of the trees on all sides, and from the interior of the gift shop. I heard thumping sounds coming from some of the cabins as the zombies inside tried to get out to see who’d come to dinner.

  We all formed a rough circle around the still stricken Kaitlyn, covering all angles of approach, M-4s in hand. Tony tossed his sledgehammer onto the ground next to the SUV.

  “Pick your targets, and don’t waste ammo,” Gabriel barked. “Clear space, and if you miss the head, finish the job.”

  Almost instantly we had upwards of thirty zombies closing in from all direc
tions, gory phantasms clutched by the mist. Gunfire filled the parking lot, the sound oddly muffled by the heavy fog, the smell of cordite mingling with the scents of pine, cedar, and zombies.

  Especially zombies.

  Even in the heat of the moment, I was impressed at how well my fellow wild cards kept their heads under pressure. The sight and smell of these things were truly horrible, and having them close in like that—arms out, mouths stretched wide to reveal teeth dripping with blood and black fluid—was a sight to freeze the heart of most people. Which is probably why a lot of folks died without running. I’d been through it in town, and still it gave me the creeps.

  But the wild cards never faltered, and within minutes all the zombies we could see were sprawled dead around us.

  We stood in silence for a moment. The only sounds remaining were those of Kaitlyn’s grief, which had trickled down to a few choked sobs, and the steady thumping on the inside of some of the cabins.

  Gabriel knelt alongside her and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “You need to pull it together,” he said quietly. “You’re going to get yourself or one of your team members killed if you can’t.”

  Kaitlyn’s eyes flashed with a look of wild hatred that quickly diffused into an almost bewildered expression, as if she suddenly realized where she was, and why... and didn’t like it much.

  Gabriel’s gaze held steady.

  “Can you pull yourself together?” he asked. “Can you do this?” Then he added, “We need you.”

  Kaitlyn gave a wrenching, watery sigh, and then nodded.

  “Yes. I can do this.” She took a deep gulp of air, and it was as if something she’d been carrying suddenly dropped off her shoulders. She got to her feet, actually letting Gabriel help her. Then, even more surprisingly, she squared herself, and looked at Mack.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I couldn’t have done it. But it needed doing.”

  Mack reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

  “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, then looked around at the rest of us, pausing when she reached me.

  “I am, too,” she said. She held my gaze for a few seconds, then walked off to the edge of the parking lot. Not exactly touchy-feely, but more than I ever expected.

  Gabriel gave her a few moments before speaking.

  “Time to check the shop and the cabins.” He pointed in my direction. “Ashley, Kaitlyn, Mack, and Kai, take the cabins. The rest of us will check the souvenir shop and the back area. Everyone, keep an eye out for more flesh-eaters trailing in from the woods. Any trouble, give a holler.” He patted his walkie-talkie. “Any questions?”

  I cleared my throat.

  “Any reason we’re not working in our normal teams?”

  “We may not always have the time to divide into specific teams,” he replied. “You need to know you can count on any member of the wild cards to back you up.”

  I nodded. Okay then.

  “Kaitlyn?” he said.

  Kaitlyn turned her head in response to Gabriel’s call, then rejoined us, shoulders straight, the set of her jaw determined.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  * * *

  Four cabins were lined up in a row next to the souvenir shop. There were three more in a rough semi-circle off to the right, front doors a few feet back from the right side of the parking lot, backs nested among the trees.

  We hit the row of cabins first.

  “Think there are any survivors?” Mack said anxiously.

  I shook my head. “There’d be zombies trying to get into the cabins if there was anyone left alive.”

  It was easy to tell which cabins were currently occupied. The steady thumping of fists on wood was an undead giveaway.

  So, ladies and gents, we definitely have flesh-eating prizes behind doors number one, three, and four.

  Kai jerked his head toward the second cabin.

  “Ashley, how ‘bout you and Mack check out that one. Kaitlyn, you wanna cover me here?”

  Kaitlyn took her place without argument.

  I raised an eyebrow at Kai.

  “Who died and made you Mister In-Charge?” I said with mock indignation.

  He shrugged.

  “I’m just going with the flow, baby girl.”

  “Did he just call me ‘baby girl’?” I asked Mack.

  “Yes, he did,” Mack replied.

  “I’ll have to kick his butt for that later.”

  Ignoring us, Kai moved purposefully toward the door of the first cabin, kicking it in with one booted foot and then quickly leaping to one side, back flat against the cabin wall, so Kaitlyn had a clear shot.

  “Very macho,” I commented. “Mel Gibson would be proud.”

  Kai grinned.

  “Thank you for noticing.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  There was method to his macho madness, however, because his kick had knocked a zombie ass over teakettle. As it struggled to its feet, Kaitlyn stepped up and shot it in the head. Kai nodded his approval and the two went inside.

  Mack and I turned to the second cabin.

  “You wanna kick it open, or shall I?” I asked.

  Mack grinned.

  “How about we try the doorknob instead? I’d rather leave the showy stuff to other people.”

  “Works for me,” I said.

  Putting my hand on the doorknob, I paused, listening for any movement inside. Nothing. Water dripped into my eye from my forehead, where moisture had condensed under the rim of my helmet. I wiped it away, turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, copying Kai’s evasive move just in case Mack needed a clean shot.

  “Looks clear.” Weapon ready, he entered the cabin and I followed close on his heels.

  There wasn’t much space inside—a bedroom, bathroom, and an indentation in the wall with a clothes pole running the length of it. The bed was queen-sized, with its headboard against the wall to one side. No sign of occupation and, thankfully, no body parts, either.

  A quick peek in the bathroom, and we moved on to the next cabin while Kai and Kaitlyn took care of number four. He kicked the door in on that one, too.

  Several headshots later, the four of us met outside and headed across the parking lot to the three remaining units. A painfully skinny and totally androgynous zombie wandered out from the trees and I shot it almost as an afterthought.

  “Is it just me, or are we getting used to this?” I asked Mack quietly.

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t know that we’ll ever get used to it. But what’s the point of jumping every time one of them staggers up? We know what they are, and we know how to stop them.”

  We reached the last three cabins. A couple of weathered glider rockers sat in a small clearing to the left, a little table in-between. A wine bottle lay on its side, its contents having long since trickled away.

  Somewhere on the periphery of my hearing there was the sound of sobbing. The placement of the cabins, along with the tricks played by the fog, kept me from pinpointing it.

  Kai and Kaitlyn headed to the cabin on the far left, so Mack and I took the middle one, both grinning when Kai kicked his cabin door open. Then I put my hand on the doorknob and listened. With an inward hiss of surprise I realized that the sounds of sobbing were coming from within, intertwined with a human voice muttering something over and over. It was too faint for me to make out the actual words.

  “Mack,” I said, “I think we have a survivor!”

  Mack’s face brightened with excitement. Nothing made him happier than finding someone alive in the midst of all the chaos and death.

  I turned the doorknob, but the door wouldn’t budge. I rapped on the wood with my knuckles.

  “Hello?” I said. “Hello, can you hear me? We’re here to help!” I put my ear to the door. The sobs continued, along with the muttering. Stepping back, I used the barrel of my gun to knock, in case they hadn’t heard me the first time.

  “Hello?”
I said, louder this time.

  Still no answer.

  I looked at Mack and frowned.

  “What’s up with that?” I said. “You’d think whoever it is would be jumping with joy about now.”

  “They might be too scared to answer,” Mack offered. “Or injured.”

  Kai and Kaitlyn emerged from the first cabin. I motioned to Kai.

  “You feel like kicking down another door? Sounds like we have a survivor inside, but he or she isn’t answering, and the door’s locked.”

  Kai nodded enthusiastically.

  “Oh, yeah! I’m likin’ the door kickin’.”

  I put a hand on his arm.

  “Let me take point after you get it open. If whoever’s in there is scared, I’m probably a little less intimidating than you.”

  “You find me intimidating?” Kai looked pleased at the thought.

  I snorted.

  “As if,” I said. “But someone else might.”

  “You know how to knife a man’s self-esteem right in the gut, girl.”

  I knocked on the door again, and raised my voice.

  “Whoever’s in there, we’re going to break open the door. We’re here to help you, okay?”

  Still no answer.

  Without further ado Kai stepped back and kicked with enough force that the door swung inward, hit the wall, and bounced back to a nearly closed position. I winced, hoping he hadn’t just given the person inside a coronary.

  “Thanks a lot, Lando.”

  He gave me a little salute and dashed off to the third cabin. Kaitlyn followed, shooting me a little smile over one shoulder. I nearly fainted with shock, but managed to smile back.

  “I’ve got you covered, Ashley.” Mack kept his gun trained on the door as I pushed it back open with my free hand. When nothing appeared, I slowly stepped inside.

  The smell hit first—the coppery, thick stench of blood and other bodily excretions. I choked and almost grabbed for my nose plugs, but quickly forgot about them when I took a good look inside.

  Blood splattered the walls and floors in thick, viscous smears. A trail of bloody handprints, followed by more smears of blood, led from the far side of the room to the closed bathroom door, as if someone had tried desperately to crawl away from an attacker.