by M. D. Massey
Rudy holds up the bullet with the tweezers to study it before he throws the bullet in the trash. He gets out gauze to pack the wound. “The bullet was from a small caliber gun. It didn’t hit bone or cause any major tissue damage. Mac, you were lucky. It was only meant to wound,” Rudy says, looking at me.
Mac answers by gulping the moonshine. The bullet was meant for me, in hopes of me being injured and the team leaving me behind. The acknowledgment registers on Rudy’s face.
“I have sweatpants you can put on, but lie on your stomach for a while.” Rudy walks away in search of pants. Mac closes his eyes. “I’ll help you put them on,” Rudy says after he retrieves the sweats. “If Mike wasn’t persistent on catching a famished we could’ve left before anyone got shot. He was worried about making money, I’m sure, but it killed him.” I guess Mike was the guy who got bit and shot.
“I think it’s still sinking in. He was there one second, gone the next,” I tell Rudy as he pulls Mac’s bloody bullet-hole pants off.
“Oh yeah, you know how I like it, Rudy, baby!” Mac slurs, southern roots coming to the surface in a strong accent. I laugh. Rudy ignores the drunken comment.
“I should’ve realized sooner it wasn’t one of us shooting the famished. We were taking them down easy enough, we outnumbered them.”
I nod. “What do you think they wanted with me?” I ask as his eyes darken.
“Probably short on women, darlin’. It’s best not to think about it.” As I watch his jaw clench with a thought trying to form in my mind, I remember Glinda telling me there aren’t many girls my age at the community. She’s right. Seeing few, I can count on both hands how many between the ages of fifteen and thirty-five live here. Although, she said the reason is people decide not to stay at the community.
“Do you think that has something to do with the lack of women around my age?”
Mac interrupts, “I wouldna have let ‘em take…er.” He raises his head to look at us. How did he get drunk so fast? Looking to his jar, I see it’s half empty.
“Mac! You'll kill yourself.” I place the jar out of reach, handing him some water. I wipe his forehead with a clean rag. “Just get some rest.” I turn to Rudy. “He looks paler. Earlier he looked like a ghost, now he looks transparent. We should have put pressure on the wound in the truck.”
“It would have gushed blood while digging out the bullet. Now it’s packed with the best chance for the bleeding to stop.” Feeling a little distressed, I’m getting a headache myself.
Digging through my pack for some ibuprofen, I say, “I think I'll shower now. I’ll be thinking on other places to go for zombies.”
“No, we don’t need to do anything now. We should focus on target practicing and planning where we’re going to get materials. I think we did great, even though there will be lots more.” He sighs wearily. “We don’t know what is going on over there. Mac’s right about it being a suicide mission.” He searches my face in contemplation.
I stay strong for him, ignoring his last comment. “We will help those people. We’ll help Julie,” I say with conviction, and put my hand on his arm for comfort. “There’s no way to prepare for how it will be. You’re right. We don’t know.” I keep hearing the voice from the roof downtown. The whole trip was a waste of time. I swallow. “Mac got shot for nothing.”
Rudy shakes his head. “You’re not shot, so I wouldn’t say it was for nothing. If you’re referring to how stupid it was to go in the first place, it wasn’t. I know how everyone will be, and they can take care of themselves.”
I think about it. It seems we’re keeping each other strong. “Point taken.” I salute. “I’ll be back soon.” I grab my pack and my last change of clothing. I walk through the corridor in a daze, thinking about my car accident, the infection, and Mac getting shot. I feel like my luck will run out soon.
22
The shower’s cold, but it’s heaven in its own right. Shampoo makes my stitches itch, so I scratch them. Ah, yes. Mac stitched me up when I got here, that alone reels me. Now, he’s taken a bullet for me, too.
Since I need to make money for supplies, I’ll ask Mac to put a sign-up sheet at his booth when he goes to work. Although, I hope he won’t be occupying his booth for a while now, not until he gets to feeling better.
After I dress and braid my locks, I go to check on Mac and bring along a bucket of water and soap to clean the blood off. He’s still asleep when I open the door, and Rudy plays a Sublime song on his guitar, giving me an idea for later. I smile.
“Thanks for helping remove the bullet. I feel terrible he was shot because of me,” I say.
He stops playing. “It was Mac’s choice. It’s like second nature for him. I would’ve done the same. He’ll heal, like you.” He changes the subject. “How is your cut?”
“The stitches itch like crazy.” I hesitate, unsure. “Will you take them out?”
“Yeah, but eat first.” He points to some fresh peaches in a basket on the floor.
“Thanks.” I pick a peach from the top.
“I have a fight tonight. Will you check on Mac at some point? We should make sure he doesn’t overdo the moonshine.”
I bite into the peach and speak with my mouth full, “I was going to anyway.” A piece of peach goes flying onto his denim-clad knee.
Rudy’s face lights up in amusement as he flicks it away. “Nice.”
“I could’ve killed a zombie with that one.” We both laugh. I eat in a hurry, and then sit on the bed to check on Mac. With no fever, but flushed from the alcohol, he’s not snoring or drooling. No fair – I’m sure I’d be crusty with drool by now.
Rudy cuts the stitches with a box cutter, relieving a deep itch. “All done,” he says, rubbing to relieve some of the tickle.
“Thanks. The itching is better.”
“Just a scab now. I’m going to head to the Trap. See you around?” he asks, sounding hopeful.
“Yeah, you know I can’t miss your bad ass in action.” He squeezes my hand before standing up. “I’m lucky you found me, you know?” I blurt.
“Me, too.” He smiles and winks as he walks out. I can’t figure him out, and this makes it hard to pinpoint how I feel about him. Sure, we flirt and make each other blush for fun, and I’m fond of him for saving my life, but something about him seems closed off. I need to stay focused on the tasks in front of me. Right now, that means cleaning Mac, but no way am I going to call it a sponge bath.
He’s not too bloody – we got most of it while taking care of his wound. I begin to clean blood splatters on his neck.
He flinches. “Holy shit…‘s cold!” With a voice thick from drunken sleep, he wakes. The vibrant aqua blue of his irises are glassed over, but it makes them twinkle with light. His long lashes blink as he takes in his surroundings. A slow grin spreads across his face. “A sponge bath. Do you need to undress me?” He apparently slept off the moonshine, though not enough to stop his bravery.
“What if I say yes?”
His eyebrows rise, but his lids remain half closed. “You know how to pique interest. I’d say, have at it,” he says, grinning the entire time.
I shake my head. “Just cleaning blood off.” I start on his arms and he doesn’t resist. The blood under his fingernails he’ll need to clean in the shower. “Don’t scratch your butt. You have blood under your nails.”
He shrugs. “All this blood is my own. I didn’t increase my zombie count today.”
“There weren’t many of them, and those hostiles shot most of them.”
“I was too busy watching you.”
“No. You were too busy twisting necks.” He doesn’t look put out with my scorn. “Anyway, I upped my zombie count. Hacking at necks can get messy. I took a shower, myself.”
“I know. You smell all flowery.”
I smile. “Wild flower soap, and Rudy took the stitches out. They were bothering me.”
“Let me see.” I bend my head so he can see them. He smoothes my hair with his hand. “Looks
good. Yeah, I bet they were itching like crazy.” He did the same as Rudy and rubbed it to scratch.
“Thanks for sewing it up. I don’t remember, I was…well, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. Guido woke me up in the middle of the night to stitch you. There you were, knocked out and drooling.” He laughs at the memory. “You woke up muttering crazy things at me.”
What did I say? “I’m sure that was endearing.”
“It kind of was – all tough looking with dreadlocks and a big bruise on your face.” His eyes blink.
“Like a cavewoman,” I reply. “Sorry, I’m keeping you from sleeping. Would you like me to help you to your room?”
His eyes snap open, piercing me with a glassy gaze. “Am I in the way? I mean, I’d rather not move right now.”
“No, you’re not in the way. I might sleep in your room tonight. Not much room in here.” I bite my lip, not knowing what he’ll think about that.
“It’s okay with me... or Rudy can sleep in there.” He grins, but he’s dead serious.
“No, I will. Just rest so you can heal. We need you to help us get Julie.”
“Yeah, Julie. I bet Rudy is confused about the whole ordeal,” he says, looking over my shoulder lost in thought.
“What do you mean?”
“Wouldn’t you be? Not knowing if someone is dead or alive?” He searches my face.
“I imagine it would be hard,” I say, sounding unsure.
His brows draw together. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m here.” No one has said something like that to me in a long time. Something shifts inside me as I watch the sincerity on his face, confusing me. I smile and stand on wobbly legs.
“I’m going to go to the Clap Trap for a little bit.” He nods, his eyes drifting closed. I hold my hands together, walking out to keep them from shaking. Shutting the door, I lean against the wall in the corridor, now officially confused and not in control of my emotions. I don’t like it, but only because I do. Today has only proven I might not have much time.
“Hey, suga’! You missin’ you boy in tha ring?” Glinda struts the hall with a customer in tow. “He’s winning, of course, but beat tha hell up.”
I sigh. Great. I’m sure Mac isn’t in any condition to check him out. “All right, I’ll go check on him.” An idea comes to me. “Hey, I need a favor. A big favor. It’s for Mac,” I lean in and whisper. She laughs.
“You full of surprises, ain’t you suga’? I’ll trade, for a lesson in hotwirin’. Word got ‘round you makin’ lessons for money?” She smirks, and her lips shine rose pink. Her blond hair curls around her shoulders, blending into her cleavage and cream colored, satin top.
“Yeah, well, got to make a living. I’ll make the trade.” She claps her hands and I follow her to her room.
I make my way toward the Clap Trap. Out in the cold, several kids throw rocks at putrids on the other side of the fence. A woman comes out to scold them, and they scurry in her direction.
Inside, people crowd near the ring. I get close enough just in time to see Rudy round a kick to a guy bigger than him in every way. Big guy falls backward, and Rudy punches him in the eye. The crowd flinches at the meaty smack. Rudy stands over him, his chest heaving, and wipes his arm across his face, smearing blood. Rudy’s hair obstructs his face. The guy with a bloody mess of a face does not move from his position on the floor. The crowd cheers Rudy on as the DJ says, “Rudy takes it again!” Rudy bends down, scooping up his bandana with bloody knuckles.
The party hops. Music blasts as the DJ spins a remix of a familiar song. Bodies gyrate on the dance floor, along with the famished bound here and there, writhing in their bonds. Someone smacks a female zombie as they walk by, apparently taking the song’s advice to smack his bitch up, as they laugh. Her face jerks around, quickly snapping her teeth. She squirms as her small, droopy breasts move from the motion. He pinches a nipple while walking away, drawing out her boob like a cone. As always, the strobe lights make them look like an unnatural, macabre work of art. Just when I think he’ll rip the nipple off, he lets go. It droops lower than the other one now. I guess dead skin loses its elasticity. I shudder from the scene. Some people are sick. It figures they’d be the ones who’d survive an apocalypse.
I spot Reece and Bunyan joining the crowd around Rudy, who’s found a spot at the bar. The closer I get, the more prominent Rudy’s injuries appear. His right eye is almost swollen shut. I wince as he takes shots of moonshine from people congratulating him. Blood crusts his nose and split bottom lip. Hair brushes the top of his shoulders as he ties his dark green bandana on his head. Sporting only jeans and boots, his shirtless chest gleams with sweat, emphasizing his chest hair.
“You should put ice on that,” I tell him in his ear. He turns with a smile, lighting up the room.
“Hey, darlin’,” he slurs.
I snort a laugh. “Not feeling any pain, are you?”
He keeps grinning. “Nope.” Gesturing to Reece, he says, “Reece wants to give you some firearm 101.” I glance at Reece, and he holds his drink in a salute and tosses it down his throat.
A table full of people catches my attention. The table hadn’t been there before, and it seems out of place. The people play a card game, and though I’m not close enough to see what game, I can tell they play for money. Hmm. It gives me another idea.
“We’ll start tomorrow.” Reece catches my attention again.
I nod, remembering his ability to hide a sawed-off shot gun on his person. I perk up. “You’ll have to let me start with the sawed-off shotgun.” Reece and Bunyan laugh at my excitement.
“Only when you can use chopsticks, grasshopper.” Reece chuckles, shaking his head, and the beads on his goatee clack together. “It’s got a kick, little lady. You’ll have to ease into that one.”
I deflate. It’ll be a gun for sure. I need to keep unpleasant things in the past. “Can’t wait. I have things to do in the morning, but I’ll meet you at the marketplace,” Reece says.
“Well, I better get back.” I wave, but Rudy grabs my wrist.
“Want to dance?” His one eye swirls with color and light. I swallow, and my hands get clammy. I’m about to answer when several people scream. Looking toward the source, the screams sound from the outside door Glinda and I had first used.
“Famished!” someone shouts as the door shakes off the hinges. I go to grab my crossbow and realize I left it in the room. My new circumstances have made me way too comfortable. Several of Guido’s guys head in separate directions. The men moving toward the door attempt to calm everyone. The zombies haven’t gotten in yet. The music cuts, making the shots outside even louder.
The DJ speaks on the loudspeaker, “Famished season is here, folks!” The DJ has an exaggerated southern accent as he spins an easy jingle and sings.
“Do what you gotta do, but don’t boo hoo, you know they after you, for food they gotta chew, we’ll git ‘em before they git through!”
The crowd sings with the DJ’s insane jingle. Practically screaming, he sings,
“No hidin’ under the bed, they easy to kill, ‘cause they already dead!”
I search for Rudy, but he’s no longer here. Running down the hall toward the door, I escape inside the courtyard. Once outside, I spot gunmen lined along the fence, the same fence where the children played moments before, shooting. Reece and Bunyan are both part of the action, but no sign of Rudy. No less than fifty famished scuffle outside the fence.
Their faces snarl and mash with crusty, bloodied chins. Dead fingers grasp at the fence, ripping at it even after their hands are wet, bloody stumps. It’s all taken care of quickly.
A man yells at everyone, telling them not to panic – famished season’s here.
I shiver. Yes, it’s cold out. This is a community and therefore a big target. I miss my bunker more than ever. I want to leave, but shake it off with a promise to keep, but I’m not going anywhere unarmed again.
Checking the room, Rudy’s not here either. Mac
’s still sleeping, his moonshine jar is by the bed, having gotten it himself. I pick it up and take a gulp of the harsh stuff.
“Hey, sunshine!” His voice cuts through the silence, causing me to jump and slosh moonshine out of the jar. Tension fills my body as I look at him.
“Sunshine?” My voice cracks as I ask. How does he know that? Turns out, he doesn’t.
“Yeah, you light up a room.” He gestures with his arm. Ignoring the weird feeling because I had the same thought about Rudy moments ago, I smile.
“I haven’t heard that in a while,” I add. His eyebrows furrow together. “Sunshine is my middle name.” Sticking out my hand, I say, “Kansas City Sunshine Moore. Nice to meet you.” He shakes it, trying to hold in a smile. “You can laugh, I don’t care.”
“Nah, I like it. It’s different.” I don’t bother telling him only my dad called me Sunshine. I like hearing it again.
“Well, I did bring you something to light up the room,” I say, and toss him my rolled trade from Glinda.
Catching it, he says, “Surprise, surprise.”
“Pain management, for the hole in your ass and all.” After I toss him a lighter, he turns onto his side and fires away.
“A bunch of famished attacked a few minutes ago.”
“I heard the shots. I figured it would happen soon. It’s normal in the cold.”
“It makes me want to leave, though.”
He passes me the joint. “Why? They keep it under control.”
I puff and hesitate. “I lived by myself for four years so I wouldn’t attract zombies. It worked, except for a loner every now and then.”
He stares at me. “By yourself?”
I want to be truthful with him and feel ready to confide in someone. “Um, yeah. My dad was paranoid. We prepared for all types of disaster emergencies. He started an underground bunker underneath our house. I finished it and lived there for four years. I came across some people in the woods one day not long ago and helped them. I was happy to have company, but they turned out to be fallacious.” I force a laugh. “But they piqued my interest in what was happening in the outside world. They liked my place, so they tried kicking me out of it, held me at gunpoint and implied they would eat me. So, I set my family home on fire and left.” I take a big hit and pass it to him. Mac is quiet and studies me. I don’t know if he wants me to keep talking or what, but the silence stretches on.