The Bronco II crested a gentle hill and Finn pressed on the brakes, slowing to a quiet stop. Pulse racing, he stared at the ragged corpses milling about in the middle of the sun splashed road. Slowly, the dead turned to face the truck, mouths opening unnaturally wide. Finn’s nerves prickled with fear. Movement tugged at his peripheral vison to the left and his heart sank. Old crumbling tombstones dotted the hilly landside, dead people drifting aimlessly up and down the long, grassy rows. He watched a man push out of a grave like he was getting out of the pool, clumsily staggering to his muddy dress shoes and, somehow, managing to walk again.
“What the fuck?” Finn whispered coldly, making sure his door was locked. He felt like they were on safari, surrounded by wild animals without a guide to usher them to safety. Wherever they went, the dead would be waiting to pounce. They were slow, but in numbers like this, they were just as deadly as a pride of famished lions.
“They’re everywhere,” Miranda whispered, incredulously watching skeletal carcasses weave through the crooked headstones on both sides of the roadway.
“Holy Moses, this is one big cemetery,” Tyler muttered, slipping the guitar in the back. “What’s the play here, Finley?”
Sighing, Finn watched a raven land on a cross perched atop a mossy tombstone. The large black bird cried out and a rotten hand shot from the ground beneath it. Filthy fingers clawed at the sky, scaring the bird into flight. The dead stumbled into the road behind them, reaching for the truck and blocking their retreat.
“Finn?” Tyler twisted around in the backseat. “They’re boxin us in, guy!”
“Let’s get out and kill them,” Mac suggested, surprising Finn with her voice. She’d barely said two words since leaving the trailer and now was not the time to start. “Fuck them!”
“No!” Finn’s tight gaze hitched on a small child watching them from the graves. The boy stood there with his back to the sun, a static silhouette against the bright daylight. Setting his jaw, Finn gave the truck a little gas. They would just have to take it slow. There were at least a dozen zombies up ahead and a busted radiator or blown tire could have fatal consequences. More ghouls shuffled closer on both sides, wistfully reaching their bony hands out for the truck. Inconsolable moans floated on the breeze with the swaying branches of a nearby willow and if he didn’t try pushing through the ones in the road now, it would only be worse in another minute or two.
“Hey,” Tyler panted, scooting closer to the front seat. “Don’t get hung up out here or we’re shit creek, brother.”
“Maybe you could play them a song and lead them away from the road,” Finn suggested, glaring at him in the rearview mirror. “We’ll film it and call you the Zombie Piper.”
Tyler’s eyes scoured both sides of the road, the color bleeding from his face. “Now ain’t the time, man.”
Snorting, Finn tipped his chin down and white-knuckled the wheel at four miles an hour.
The bony pack hobbled dangerously closer, moaning and reaching, jaws opening and closing. They parted around the hood like a river around a boulder, palms slapping wildly at the SUV. The truck began to shake and it sounded like a hailstorm as skeletal hands and wrists banged against the metal and glass. A ghastly carwash of soiled formalwear and dreadful faces mopped the windows, desperate to get inside. The rural cemetery was old and crumbly and God only knew how long these people had been resting peacefully underground until whatever curse changed that in the blink of a bloodshot eye. Together, the things groaned in agony, a morbid symphony of shredded vocal chords and single-minded desire. Finn held onto his breath and the steering wheel at the same time, gently plowing through them. An old woman in a red dress with white polka-dots appeared at his door, snarling and snapping at him through the window. Yanking on the door handle with all her might, matted white hair swung in her face and the car bounced when they rolled over something.
“Jesus,” Tyler cried, hanging onto a handgrip. “What was that?”
Finn glanced into the rearview mirror to see an elderly man roll out from behind them. His leg came off and Finn pressed on the accelerator. The old lady in the red dress tumbled to the ground, cartwheeling along the pavement and tripping up some of her ghoulish partners in crime. Pulling free of the last of the mob, he got the gory truck back up to speed, watching the dead grow smaller in the mirrors with his heart banging in his ears. He peeled his fingers off the steering wheel and headed for the state line, releasing a pent-up breath. “So…who’s hungry?”
12
Trending
Parking off to the side, Finn turned off the truck and watched people come and go from the diner. The parking lot was packed to the gills like it was just another Saturday night, the setting sun stretching foreboding shadows across the land. A Harley motored past and he grunted at the irony of it all. At this time yesterday, he was on cloud nine drinking margaritas with his wife on the back deck. Twenty-four hours later, they were running for their lives, homeless and terrified.
“Can’t we just hit a drive-thru somewhere?” Miranda asked, staring into the brightly lit Denny’s. “I’m not going in there.”
“It looks fine and I have to take a leak.” Finn undid his seatbelt and stretched his back out. “I need to get out of this car for a few minutes.”
“I hear that, man. My butt fell asleep thirty miles ago.” Tyler checked his sidearm. “Do we bring in the long guns or not?”
Finn watched a family of four enter the diner with cheerful smiles and a spring in their step. Probably with plans to go bowling or see a movie after dinner. One thing was certain: whatever they’d seen on the news hadn’t been enough to keep them home. “I say we leave them in the truck,” Finn replied, twisting around in the front seat. “No need to make a scene.” His eyes landed on Mac and thinned. Fortunately, the black in her uniform helped hide the blood, and she’d already washed her face and hands back at the gas station, but she still looked out of it and that worried him.
“Let’s do this. I’m crazy hungry,” Tyler said, straightening his hat.
Inside the diner, the booths and tables were all taken but they found four open stools at the counter. Sipping coffee and water, they quietly watched the wait staff bark orders through the rectangular window into the kitchen, Air Supply softly floating from the speakers in the ceiling.
“I don’t know what we’re doing,” Tyler breathed, seated to Finn’s left. He cupped his mug with both hands and stared distantly into the dark liquid inside. “I mean, we’re running to a different town for safety only to relive this nightmare all over again. It’s like the horror version of Groundhog Day.”
“Maybe it will die out, like some weird winter virus that goes around.” Finn smiled weakly at his wife sitting to his right, unable to lift much more of a reassurance than that. After what they’d seen, the odds of this uprising dying out seemed about as possible as the Hulk dropping by to lend them a fist. Leaning forward, Finn stared past Tyler to Mac, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. The cop stared straight ahead and sipped her coffee on automatic pilot, a vacant look lingering in her glassy eyes. “You should order something to eat, Mac,” he told her, catching a look from Tyler.
“I told you, I’m not hungry,” she replied, sipping more coffee.
“You need your energy, especially after…”
“I killed my mom?” She turned to him with a knitted brow. “And my fiancé?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Pressing his lips together, Finn exhaled a slow breath and rounded up his thoughts more carefully. “I meant, after what we went through back there. Look, Mac, what happened with your mom was an accident. Nothing more, nothing less. Same goes for Jake.” He stopped to lower his voice. “I don’t know what was going on with you two and I don’t care. I need you back in the game because this isn’t over yet.”
Mac shot him a pointed glare. “I loved him, Finn!”
“He was dating somebody else!” he blurted,
drawing some odd looks from a nearby table. Sighing, he lowered his voice. “Let it go already and help us figure this thing out.”
She sharpened her gaze into razorblades, flexing a leather glove into fist. “Figure what thing out?”
“Survival,” Miranda answered, looking down the row to Mac. “Help us survive.” Her brow went up in a hopeful gesture. “Please? We can’t go home; not yet.”
Mac turned back to the cooks buzzing about in the kitchen and sipped more coffee, turning something over in her head. “I’ve never been good at relationships.”
“None of us have,” Miranda told her. “It’s something you have to work at every day from the moment you crack your eyes open in the morning until you shut them again at night.”
Mac nodded slowly at her. “How long have you two been married?”
“Two years,” Miranda answered. “We were together for three before that.”
“And the way she hogs the covers, she’s lucky it’s been that long!” Finn took a moment to register the dull looks staring back at him, the smile slipping from his lips. “Or not,” he muttered, shutting up and drinking his coffee.
“Holy shitbags,” Tyler breathed out, tapping at his phone. “I don’t believe it.”
“What happened?” Finn’s brow folded. “Is it still spreading?”
“I don’t know about that, but I just went over three hundred thousand followers on Instagram!” He looked up from the phone, face beaming with pride. “I’m Insta-famous baby!”
Groaning, Finn returned to his coffee. The last time he checked his phone, he only had twenty-four thousand new followers and couldn’t understand why Tyler had so many more. He was the one fighting hand to hand combat with a dead man in the video.
Miranda sat back when the waitress dropped off her food. “Thank you.”
“And listen to this, I just got an offer from Jack Link’s Beef Jerky.” Tyler smiled like a Cheshire cat, thanking the waitress when she set a Lumberjack Slam in front of him. “It’s a big offer.”
“Good, then you can pay for dinner.”
He frowned at Finn. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” His eyes scanned the platter, stomach rumbling over the Bob Segar now sifting through the speakers. “Hey, can you take a picture of me in the post-apocalyptic world?”
Finn hesitated before taking Tyler’s cellphone and lining up a shot that cut off the top of his head. Tilting the platter up, Tyler grinned and Finn snapped the pic. “I don’t know if I’d call eating dinner at Denny’s post-apocalyptic,” he said, handing the phone back and unrolling his silverware.
“Whatever man, don’t get so defensive.”
“I’m not getting defensive.”
“Yes, you are,” Miranda interjected, stuffing a forkful of ham and cheese omelet into her mouth. “You got defensive like this when I made you get life insurance.”
“That’s because I thought you were going to have me murdered. Remember?”
Miranda’s laughter was music to his ears. He wasn’t sure they would ever laugh again and, if that was possible, maybe the virus – or whatever it was – would die out before they had to wade through another swarm of hungry corpses. Hell, maybe they made it to safety after all.
“Is this because my Instagram has blown up way more than yours?” Tyler’s eyebrows went up. “Is that the root of the problem here?”
“The root of the…” Finn stopped a forkful of biscuits and gravy in front of his mouth. “Let me tell you something, Tyler, you’ll be old news by this time next week when there are a thousand other Zombie Slayers out there. So, enjoy it while it lasts.”
Tyler bit into a piece of bacon. “Why you acting so hard, man?”
“I’m not acting hard, I’m just telling you the truth,” he replied, stuffing the fork into his mouth and chewing. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news.”
“You know what you need?” Tyler twisted around on the stool to face him. “You need to watch a movie called The Bridges of Madison County, starring Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep, and have yourself a good cry.”
Finn’s eyebrows dipped. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about letting your walls down, Finley, and getting it all out.”
“Tyler,” he sighed. “I don’t give two shits about Instagram. How are you going to spend any of this alleged money when the power goes out? Huh?”
He shrugged and bit into the bacon strip again. “Maybe it won’t go out. Maybe computers are running the electric companies now and they don’t even need human interference.”
Cutting into his food, Finn smiled and took another bite to quiet his growling stomach. “Bet it doesn’t stay on for longer than a week.”
“Across the entire country?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll put ten grand on that,” Tyler said, wiping his hand on his jeans and sticking it out.
Pursing his lips into a hard scowl, Finn shook his hand. “Deal.”
“Finn,” Miranda groaned, cutting into her omelet.
“No way the power stays on longer than a week.” Finn shrugged loosely. “Besides, he just got an offer from Jack Link’s Beef Jerky. He’ll have plenty of money to lose soon,” he muttered, washing his food down with some coffee.
“Excuse me,” an airy voice sang out from behind, drawing their eyes to a pretty young girl with long dark hair and a Slipknot t-shirt. Biting back a smile, she stared fondly at Tyler through smoky eyes. “You’re the Zombie Slayer,” she said in a breathless whisper, green eyes glittering like emeralds within her dark eyeshadow.
Tyler blushed and set the fork down. “Tyler Bennington,” he said, sticking a hand out. “Pleased to meet ya…”
“Tarryn,” she replied, shaking his hand. “I can’t believe you’re here! This is so rad.”
“Just stopping in for a quick bite.” He smiled and let her keep shaking his hand. “You work up a serious appetite killing those darn things out there.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed out, finally releasing him. “My friends are going to die!” Her face turned deathly grave. “You’re trending right now.”
His jaw came unhinged. “I am?”
Shifting on the stool, Mac’s eyes bounced between them. “Wait till they hear him sing,” she said, smiling warmly at Tyler. “He’s going to be the next Garth Brooks.”
Finn started choking on his food and reached for the water.
Spreading a hangdog smile, Tyler hung his head. “Oh, I don’t know about all that.” He looked up at Mac, the smile stalling on his lips. “You really think so?”
“I know so. You’re very good,” she said, getting lost in his eyes for a long moment that gave Finn the creeps. “Your singing gives me the hope I need to carry on.”
Blushing, Tyler spread a big smile across his face. “You’re alright, Big Mac Attack. You know that?”
She smiled back, a sparkle reaching the far recesses of her tired eyes. “So are you, Red.”
His smile grew, watered by her affectionate use of his nickname.
Finn’s eyes jumped between them, forehead creasing. “Really? Not the chance to save the world, or the basic instinct to survive? His singing is what gives you hope?”
“Yes, Finn,” she answered, blowing on her coffee. “It’s very soulful.”
He grunted. “That’s one way to put it,” he murmured, catching a look from his wife that made him stuff more food into his mouth.
“Can I get a picture?” Tarryn asked, pulling out a phone with a pink Hello Kitty case that defied everything about her.
“Yeah, you bet, Tarryn!” Tyler glanced at Finn. “You mind, Finley?”
Chewing, he snatched the pink phone and snapped the pic, cutting off the top of Tyler’s head again in the process. “There ya go.”
“Thank you,” she said, pocketing the cellphone and giving Finn a doubletake. “You look familiar…”
“I get that a lot.”
Frowning, she looked over her shoulder at a youn
g boy with curly red hair watching from a moon-shaped booth over in the corner. “So…how bad is it anyway? Are there more than a hundred of them?” Her eyebrow ring rose into her forehead. “A thousand?”
Tyler hedged before answering. “Hard to say for sure.”
“Are they here?” She pointed at the diner floor. “In this town? Is that why you’re here? To stop them?”
He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
“It looks clear,” Miranda replied, forcing a smile. “So far.”
“But they’ll come, won’t they?” Tarryn’s green eyes jerked to Finn and narrowed. “To our town?”
“I don’t think so,” he lied. “More than likely, it’s a concentrated outbreak in a small patch of Iowa. Sounds like the authorities have it under control.”
Tarryn studied him through dubious eyes, picking at her black painted nails. Bob Segar gave way to Gerry Rafferty and she thumbed to the curved booth behind her. “Well, thanks again for the picture, Zombie Slayer.”
Tyler tipped his cap to her. “My pleasure, Tarryn.”
He watched her walk away, turning back to his platter when she tossed a look over a shoulder and caught him staring. He let loose a tired sigh and picked up a fork. “Nice girl,” he said, digging back in. Stuffing their mouths, they ate in silence, too tired to do anything but handle one thing at a time. Finn felt like the world was moving around them in slow motion, like they were part of some hologram that didn’t exist. None of this seemed real.
“I wrote a song for Buster on the way here.” Tyler looked up from his plate. “Y’all wanna hear it when we get back to the Bronco II?”
“No,” Finn replied, drinking some water.
“I do,” Mac said, smiling at the waitress when she refilled her mug. “I really like the one about your mom. It’s very sweet.”
“Thank you,” Tyler replied, mixing his pancakes and eggs together.
“My mom and dad would’ve loved your music.”
His cheeks flushed with blood. “Actually, they did,” he said, taking a big bite. “I played em a song after dinner last night and…” He trailed off to shake his head. “I’m sorry, Bailey.”
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