“That’s none of my business. I want to know if we’re still going to your house, because two minutes ago you didn’t seem so sure anymore.”
He passed her the cup. “I’m not sure that’s the right move anymore. Look what happened back at Sophia’s grave.”
“That could happen anywhere we go.” Stephanie took a sip of the lukewarm water, studying him in the sunlight. “Wendy’s right, we’ve come too far to give up now. We have to make it to your house.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. We just do.” She glanced at the long row of offices behind her. “What else are we going to do? Live here?”
Paul sighed and let his gaze wander out the windows. “There has to be a military refugee camp or something out there. We can’t be the only ones left. There’s no way.”
Picking a piece of glass from his hair, she dropped it into a wastebasket next to the water cooler. “But where? That’s the question.”
He shook his head. “All I know is that if we don’t find more people and soon…” His heartbeat quickened when she took his hand and squeezed.
“We’ll find more.”
He fell into her almond-shaped eyes for a few seconds with his mouth agape. “Will we?” he whispered.
She stared back, her skin warm against his. “Probably not.”
Paul laughed out loud, bringing a smile to her pretty face that felt amazing.
“Hey guys, how’s it going?”
They turned to find Wendy standing behind them with a shifty look in her eyes.
Stephanie let go of Paul’s hand and gave him back the cup. “Better,” she said, wandering back to join Curtis and Billy at the big round table.
Wendy folded her arms across her chest and watched Stephanie go. “I wish I had long legs like that.”
“Me too,” he replied, following Stephanie to the other side of the showroom. He didn’t like the way everyone looked up at him when he got there.
“So which one do you think we should we take?” Billy asked.
“The Camaros,” Curtis said.
Billy pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yeah, I don’t know about taking two cars, man.”
“They’re faster. Plus, if one breaks down we still have another that’s good to go.”
“We’re not all fitting into one Camaro, Curtis. Especially with all of our gear.” Billy turned to Paul. “We should take a minivan that everyone can fit into. Something with DVD players and stuff. What do you think?”
Paul crumpled the cup and tossed it over his shoulder. “I think my name’s Paul and that’s between y’all.” Even though he made it abundantly clear this was his party, he felt like turning down the music and kicking everyone out. This party was over. He plopped into a hard plastic chair and massaged his temples, bloodshot eyes drifting to the tattered suit and tie strolling the dusty rows outside like a Sunday morning looky-loo. More than likely, a car salesman who couldn’t figure out how to get back home to eat his family.
“I’m telling you, those two Camaros right there will get us out of any jam in a hurry.”
Billy shook his head at Curtis. “There’s way more room to stretch out in a van, dude.”
“I’m not driving a minivan, Billy. What don’t you get about that?”
“Okay then, how about a CUV?”
“Hell no.”
Paul jerked his chin out the plate-glass window. “We’ll take the black Suburban,” he said, hoping to thwart the headache taking root behind his right temple.
Billy examined the ride for a long moment before nodding his approval. “I like it. Roll into town like we’re the Secret Service.”
Wendy sat down next to Paul and he leaned back, avoiding her gaze. “Appearance is everything, which is why we’re wearing these badges.”
Curtis snorted his laughter and flicked the silver badge pinned to his shirt. “I doubt those things are gonna give two shits about some tinfoil badges.”
“No, but maybe the next Jay and Marvin we come across will think twice before messing with us.” Paul lowered his voice. “Like I said before, we are the law now and it’s time to start spreading the news. For whatever reason, this world wanted to change last month and we are here to change it back because it’s ours. It’s for us not them.” He stared out into the sun-splashed day to avoid Wendy’s pining eyes.
Love.
Pffff.
What did she know about love? He loved Sophia, not Wendy who was slowly driving a wedge between him and his wife just like Rebecca did. That skeezy record rep from Chicago could’ve cared less that Paul belonged to someone else and Wendy flew the same flag. And considering her occupation, it wasn’t surprising.
☠
Huddled around the showroom table, they gorged on Little Debbie Swiss Rolls and Fudge Rounds while watching the straggler outside try to escape the maze of new and used cars. Paul leaned back in a comfortable office chair and scanned their faces as he hit a joint. They looked like he felt: dirty and dead on their feet. It was time for a much needed break before doing it all over again later this afternoon.
“So what was it like being a cheerleader in the NFL?”
Stephanie looked up to find Wendy staring at her from across the table. “Oh it was a lot of fun. Lot of traveling, which I love.”
Wendy shifted in a plastic chair. “Soooo, if you don’t mind my asking, did you make a lot of money doing that?”
Billy’s eyes bounced between them as he chewed.
“No, it was just part-time but something I dreamed of doing since I was a little girl.”
“Me too,” Paul said, double-tapping the joint and drawing a playful look from Stephanie in the process.
“Our dad was proud as hell of her, too.” Curtis dug into another Swiss Roll, devouring half of it in one bite. “Guy was the biggest Chiefs fan in all of KC.”
“He just liked the free tickets they gave me, but it was more than just the on-field stuff I enjoyed. We did so many fun things off field as well, like cheer camps and visiting children in the hospital.”
Billy grunted. “Lucky kids.”
Stephanie frowned at him. “Lucky? You think having Leukemia is lucky?”
“What? No, I…”
Curtis laughed, eyes gravitating to Wendy. “So was it hard making the stripper squad?”
“Curtis!” Stephanie slapped him. “That is so rude.”
“Hey, there’s no shame in being a stripper. Bar wants to make money, they have to go after the best. Right?”
“Well, I can tell you one thing, my dad wasn’t very proud of me.” Wendy lowered her gaze and grew quiet, twisting the smoked metal timepiece around her wrist. “He found out from a friend who stopped by the club one night.”
Stephanie cringed. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, that probably contributed to his heart attack.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“But it paid a lot better than Target.” Wendy looked up and tried on a smile that didn’t fit. “My dad wanted me to go to college and become a dentist.” She laughed at the idea. “But college wasn’t for me and I dropped out after two semesters.”
“Hey, you don’t have to go to college to be successful. I didn’t.” Billy clasped his hands on the table. “College is overrated anyway. These days, it’s nothing but a bunch of drunken orgies and sexual assaults, and that’s no joke.”
Paul furrowed his brow and passed him the joint. “I think there’s a little more to it than that.”
“All I know is that if I had a daughter, her college fund would be a game-room fund,” Billy said, capping the statement off with a drawn-out laugh that echoed in the large room.
Stephanie traded a quick look with her brother. “I think that’s what our dad did with our college funds. He had an awesome game room.”
“I lost my virginity on that pool table.”
Paul’s eyes flicked to Curtis. “Are you serious?”
He shrugged. “Hey, a bet’s a bet.”
&nbs
p; “I don’t miss the old world.”
Everyone turned to Wendy, smiles fading.
“I hated my life and my job and I don’t miss it.” She dared to look up and meet their heavy gazes. “I know how much each one of you has lost and I am sorry for that, I really am. But a part of me thanks God this infection happened and I feel horrible saying that.” She turned from their incredulous stares and lit up a cigarette. “But I feel like I have a purpose in this world that I never felt before. I was so lost before this,” she said, glancing at Paul. “And now I feel…present.”
Paul popped the last of his Fudge Round into his mouth, wishing she’d just shut the fuck up for two minutes because, as much as he hated to admit it, maybe she was right. Maybe this life held their calling and not the old. And maybe they were still alive because they weren’t so average after all. They may not have any training but something was watching over them, guiding them, protecting them, using them in the fight against evil. It sounded ridiculous inside his head but so did the idea of dead people wandering the streets. If the dead could rise, maybe he was here to put them back down.
Or maybe he’d die siphoning gas two hours from now.
Everyone continued eating as a heavy silence fell over the showroom like a damp sheet. Paul caught himself staring at a tiny picture taped to the cubicle he was sitting beside. A family of four posed in front of a sunlit cabin in the woods, everyone smiling brightly except a young girl with long dark hair and disdain swimming in her eyes. The gloomy look on her face sent a case of the chills running through him and he wondered why the sales person chose to tape that particular picture to his cubicle – until Paul noticed the young girl wore the exact same expression in the other pictures as well. No matter how bright and cheery the location – an amusement park, the beach, the zoo – she looked like she was in a living hell. A wall clock fell to the floor behind the customer service desk and shattered into pieces. Everyone jumped. Paul sprang from the chair and drew his gun, taking aim at something that wasn’t there.
“Fuckin-A,” Billy shouted, jerking Chubby’s weapon from shiny car to shiny car. “The fuck was that?”
Curtis dashed across the showroom and did a quick sweep of the offices. “Just a stupid clock,” he said, going behind the crescent-moon shaped desk and inspecting the wall with Fork Rivers Autoland written across it in large yellow letters. “Nail came loose or somethin.”
Billy blew out a breath and dropped back into his chair, setting the gun on the table. “I can’t take this shit anymore, man.” He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to five before opening them again to see the blank faces staring back. “Damn!”
Paul holstered his weapon and sat back down, wondering how many more jolts his heart could take before it ruptured inside his chest.
Curtis seized Billy from behind and yelled in his ear, making Billy shout.
“You asshole, Curtis!”
He laughed and grabbed another Swiss Roll. “Damn, jumpy much, Billy?”
Stephanie couldn’t stop a smile. “Now you know what it was like growing up with him. Every time we watched a horror movie, Curtis would jump out from behind things for the next two days.”
“That’s not true,” he replied. “It was more like three days.” He grinned at them, exposing his chocolate-covered teeth.
“I like the sound of the beach house you guys were at,” Billy said, changing the subject. “That must’ve been like being on vacation.” His eyes flicked to Paul. “I can’t believe you left there.”
Paul leaned back and kicked his shoes up on the table, gravity tugging on his eyelids. He was almost home and just wanted to sleep.
Curtis licked chocolate from his fingers. “So after we get your photo albums and cookbooks, where to next, Martha Stewart?”
He exhaled a heavy breath that swirled Wendy’s cigarette smoke. “Not sure yet.”
“We should hole up in a prison.”
Everyone slowly turned to Billy.
He shrugged. “What? They have a huge fence.”
Curtis snorted. “What’s with you and prisons, man? Didn’t you get enough of Johnny Rotten’s crusty dick in that last place?”
“Okay then, how about a hotel? A five-star hotel.” Billy confidently nodded. “Throw some bellhop racks and chairs down the stairs to keep the stragglers from getting to the top floor.”
“Or to block us in,” Paul said. “What if there’s a fire?”
“We get parachutes and jump from the roof!” Billy threw his hands out. “Look man, I’m just saying we need to get somewhere that has a fence or a wall. Something those things can’t climb over or we are done.” His eyes stopped on each of their faces. “I’m not even playin. This shit is real and it’s time we start taking things very fucking seriously.”
“Oh, you don’t think we’re taking this seriously?” Curtis snapped. “Try clearing a mannequin factory in the dark! We’ve been taking this shit seriously since day one while you’ve been hiding under your bed like some little bitch. So don’t talk to me about taking things very fucking seriously!”
“Curtis,” Stephanie said in a calming voice.
Paul yawned and shut his eyes, torn between holing up somewhere for a while and staying on the move. It ate at him without respite. He was responsible for these people’s lives and that was no joke. There was no reset button here. This was his bright idea, but like dead Brock said, they had to take the fight to those things and, even in death, Brock was right. If they planted roots now, they’d get complacent. Sloppy. One thing was very clear at this stage of the game: hardly anyone was left and finding them would be like finding a needle in a haystack. The ones who did manage to survive were probably too busy hiding to do much else and without a radio, the only way to locate them was to keep…
Paul’s eyes popped open.
Camp Dodge.
Dan’s words floated to him out of the same abyss they’d disappeared into upon waking the other afternoon.
Get to Camp Dodge. Forget everything else.
The ghostly recollection struck like a bolt of lightning, cementing him to the chair and reducing the voices around him to a dull buzz. Based in fact, the dream of rescuing Carla had quickly veered off course into the absurd and Paul forgot all about Dan’s posthumous advice. Eyes thinning, he blurred the pop machine across the room into a fuzzy smudge. Just north of Des Moines, Camp Dodge served as the headquarters for the Iowa National Guard and after 9/11, they erected a tall fence around the entire base to keep the terrorists out (because everyone knows how much the terrorists want to strike a National Guard base in the middle of a flyover state they’ve never heard of before but ya never know). Not only could they use that fence to keep the undead out, but they could, more than likely, find a healthy stash of supplies inside as well. Food, water, medicine and guns had to be in plenty because most of the reserves never touched it. After the Governor called in the Guard, most never made it back. But some had to of stayed behind to hold the fort down while their comrades were out saving the grocery stores and malls. Some had to still be there. Maybe even some with medical training. Paul’s throat clicked when he swallowed. Or maybe dead soldiers patrolled the grounds with M4s they relearned to fire after plugging back into some base instinct all creatures seem to possess. Kind of like how Lindsey Wagner relearned to ride her bicycle before Brock blew half her face off in his driveway.
More importantly, the reserve base probably had a working radio. So far, all of the ones they’d tried were way too small to have much of a signal but Camp Dodge would be a different story. After all, the National Guard was equipped to deal with national emergencies (although apparently not one of this magnitude as the military and police were a distant memory). Nonetheless, this could be their foothold.
Their new beginning.
Their comeback.
“What’re you thinking about?”
Paul’s red eyes jerked to Wendy, heart beating faster against his coat. “Let’s find those car keys.”
&nbs
p; Chapter Eighteen
The Suburban was still a tight fit for five people but offered more room than the F-150. It also had better protection for their gear stowed in the enclosed back end. The corpses that breached the truck bed crushed a tub of food but it was still mostly salvageable. Had the tailgate popped open, they would’ve lost everything when those things fell out the back. Second chances are an endangered species in this world and they wouldn’t make that mistake again. Beyond the Iowa border, the temperature dropped and the snow grew to a thin blanket with dead grass poking through in patches. The jackets they took from the beach house were fine during the day but they would need something heavier at night. But not tonight. The shadows were already stretching longer and it started to snow.
Mid-yawn, downtown Des Moines appeared in the gray distance. Just like everywhere else nothing breathed. The capital city was a hidden gem, insulated from gangs and terrorist attacks. Immune to rudeness and unfriendly welcomes. Now it was decimated. A blurry thumbprint of what once was. Nothing moved but the American flags flapping in the wind, and outside of a taxi cab parked in the middle of the street, Paul’s house looked just like it did back on that snowy February day. The day he, Sophia and Dan were too busy fighting for their lives to look back. The woman in curlers and a robe was now lying half in the road and half in Paul’s front yard – the first human he saw murdered by one of those things with his own two eyes. There wasn’t much left, which explained why she hadn’t gotten back up.
Pulling in the driveway, skulls popped beneath the SUV’s new tires, squirting bloody brains out the side like ketchup packets. He put the Suburban in park and let out a tired breath, studying the place with dread seeping into his marrow like tainted oil. After the zombie train, he didn’t feel like clearing the house in the least. Not even his house. Hell, many nights pre-outbreak, he was too tired to brush his teeth before bed, let alone storm another haunted house with loaded weapons at the ready.
Dead Series (Book 2): A Little More Dead: Gunfire & Sunshine Page 17