by TW Brown
“Yep. That is part of it.” Edmund closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. “I was running because the last place I thought was safe turned out not to be. I lost my entire group…including my cousin…the last family I had left in the world.”
“Yeah?” I shot back, suddenly not feeling all that sympathetic. This guy was sinking into some sort of funk because he was finally allowed enough time to process what was going on. Basically, he was having an experience that was the opposite of mine. The thing was, everybody had lost someone they loved. I doubted there was a single family in the world that remained intact at this point. “Okay, you lost somebody. You think that makes you special? I watched my fiancée turn and try to take a bite out of me.”
“But it was my fault!” Edmund finally exploded. “If I would’ve listened to everybody instead of thinking that I knew best…that I had all the answers when it came to keeping us safe, then maybe he would be alive today and I wouldn’t still hear his screams…hear him begging for me to help him, then for me to kill him.”
“So your answer is to just quit? You found us, we stopped and picked you up, and now we can go someplace where there are others. We can band together and survive this. But I can tell you from experience that trying to go it alone is a mistake.”
“Maybe I don’t want to try and survive, maybe I don’t see the point.” Edmund’s tone had gone flat, his voice barely above a whisper.
I considered his words for a moment. I’d wrestled with that very idea not too long ago. If not for Grady Simons reminding me that Stephanie would want me to fight, and to not give up, I might have thrown in the towel a few times when things looked their bleakest. The thing was, I didn’t know this guy. I certainly did not believe that I had any sway over his life or possessed the type of motivational energy to get him to change his mind.
“Okay,” I finally said. “Well, I wish you the best.”
I gave him the basic description and location of where Miranda and I would be heading. More than once, I told him that he would be welcome if he chose to join up with me and the people that I was returning to.
Miranda and I exited the rec room and crept to the front of the building just in case they’d left somebody behind to take us down if we chose to leave before their half hour request/demand elapsed. The parking lot was empty as far as I could see. The lone exception being our police car.
I was almost to the door and ready to leave when the smell of roasting meat tickled my nostrils again. I did an almost military-perfect about-face and headed back across what had once been some sort of game room where I made my way to the huge glass doors that opened out to the outdoor area that included the pool and a fenced-in tennis court through an open gate.
“No way,” I breathed, daring to hope that my eyes were not, in fact, playing tricks on me.
I had discovered the source of that smell of roasting meat and was thrilled to see a variety of steaks off to the side of one massive outdoor grill. A garbage can beside the barbecue was stuffed full of discarded grocery store meat packages and a bunch of recognizable cardboard carriers that almost made me giddy as my eyes tracked to a pair of large coolers. Both of them were open and had several bottles of assorted beers submerged in an icy, watery mix. I had no idea where they’d discovered ice, but I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I looked around and didn’t see any signs of a utensil so I gave one of the steaks a tentative poke and discovered that it was still warm, but not too hot to handle. That settled, I grabbed one with my hands, held it firmly, and then tore off a big bite.
“That could be poisoned, you know,” Miranda scolded, staring at me with arms folded across her body and one foot tapping in agitation.
“Then I better hurry up and down a couple of those beers so I can go out happy,” I managed around a mouthful of well-seasoned and tasty meat.
Since I was already acting like a total heathen and probably looked like a complete animal with grease from the meat trickling into my facial hair growth, I decided to finish off the look by staggering to the cooler like one of the undead.
“Beeerrr,” I gurgled in a horrible aping of a zombie moaning for brains in those gawd-awful Return of the Living Dead movies.
Seriously, was I the only person who saw the problem with zombies that talk? That franchise of movies had almost ruined the genre. As soon as somebody would mention zombies, you’d always get some clod who had to moan “braaiiinsss”. Did they not understand that it was a headshot that killed a zombie, so if it actually ate the brains of its victim, there would be no new zombies spawning?
I laughed so suddenly that beer came out of my nose in a stinging spray. I also lost the bit of steak that I’d still been chewing with the beer chaser to wash it down.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Miranda snapped, jumping back to avoid my foamy spray, dropping the steak she’d just settled on.
I considered telling her about the string of thoughts that had just whizzed through my mind, but decided that I didn’t want her thinking I was an even bigger idiot than she already probably did.
“Nothing, just enjoying the irony of a post-apocalyptic barbecue,” I lied.
She eyed me with suspicion and then reached tentatively for a steak to replace the one she’d dropped on the ground. That got me to thinking of the day no doubt on the horizon where it won’t even be a thought to reach down, pick food up off the ground and maybe not even dust it off due to the overwhelming hunger gnawing at your belly. That thought was a big buzzkill and I quickly dismissed it.
“You wanna bring some back to Edmund before we go?” I asked after consuming two good-sized steaks and a couple bottles of wonderfully cold beer that had me experiencing only a mild but pleasant buzz.
“Not really,” Miranda said after taking a huge pull from the bottle in her hand and emitting a belch that would impress a trucker.
I shrugged, grabbed a steak and a couple of beers, and headed back inside to the rec room where we’d left Edmund. I paused with my hand on the doorknob. I had this terrible thought that something awful would be waiting for me on the other side of the door. It took me a few seconds and a deep breath or two, but I finally opened the door and poked my head inside.
Edmund was still sitting against the wall where we’d left him just a few minutes ago. His eyes were closed and his hands were resting limply in his lap.
“Hey, Edmund?” I asked, my voice cracking as a tendril of fear wrapped itself around my throat just as the words came out.
The man opened his eyes and regarded me. I could tell that he’d been crying. His eyes were red and puffy, and now that I looked a bit closer, I could see the smudges on his face where he’d wiped at the shed tears.
“I said I don’t want to go anywhere,” the man croaked.
“Yeah, and that’s fine, but those folks left a few steaks on the grill for us as well as some honest-to-goodness cold beer.” I held out my offering.
The man stared at me for a moment, and I thought he might refuse my offer. At last, he reached out with his hands and waggled his fingers for me to bring the treasures forth.
I handed him the meat and the sweaty bottle of liquid gold. He stared at it with an expression of wonder and then gave the meat a sniff.
“You sure its beef?” he asked skeptically.
I gave him a smile and a nod. “Saw the packaging myself.”
I watched him take that first sip from one of the bottles. He made a very satisfied moan and then promptly bit into the steak.
“Take care of yourself,” I said as I headed for the door. “And you know where we are if you change your mind.”
I was met just outside the door by Miranda. Together, the two of us exited the community center. Looking around, there were no signs of any mobile walking dead. I had to imagine that any still in the area had likely wandered off in pursuit after the folks who’d just left.
I was climbing into the driver’s seat when I heard the distant but all-too-
familiar sound of gunfire. Lots of it. I had to focus to get a fix on the general direction.
Jumping into the car, I turned over the engine and dropped it into drive as I jerked the wheel and stomped on the gas as soon as Miranda had shut the passenger side door. We did a squealing turnaround in the parking lot and I rocketed to 132nd. By then, I had the window rolled down.
“What are you doing?” Miranda snapped as I yanked the wheel again and took a hard right at the intersection.
I had a feeling in my gut that I knew exactly what I was hearing. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put things together. Sure, I might be wrong…there could be a number of crazy fringe groups that got a kick out of ambushing people and taking their stuff. Actually…come to think of it, there probably are dozens. But I was feeling fairly confident that I knew what I was hearing.
“Evan?” Miranda repeated, her tone taking on a bit of a desperate quality.
“Get whatever gun ready that you feel best about taking into a fight,” I said through gritted teeth. “Unless you want out. If that is the case, speak up now.”
“Are you seriously doing this?” she pressed.
My mind was spinning with a jumble of thoughts that were like rocks in a dryer. For too long I’d sat back. I’d willingly let people die as I sought to meet my own selfish needs. Sure, I was doing something for my beloved Newfie, but that did not excuse how I’d allowed people to die so that I could have or get what I wanted. In my book, that, made me just as bad as the individuals that I considered to be the “bad” guys.
My actions had led directly to an awful death for Ariel. She did not deserve what happened, and I could’ve prevented it. Maybe that bastard Don was lying, maybe he’d already planned on killing her, but I’d basically assured her of that fate. I’d sat with her in the dark and convinced her that things would be okay.
It was time that I start acting instead of reacting…or worse…doing nothing. If I was immune like it now seemed possible, then I had an advantage. Not that I wanted to be bitten. That sounded painful, and I am not a fan of pain.
I glanced over at Miranda and discovered that I wasn’t all that surprised when I saw her brandishing one of the police rifles. If my guess was correct, it was an M4. I hadn’t really taken time to fully inspect the weapons that we’d acquired at the police station, but I was fairly confident in my guess.
“I’ll take one of those,” I said.
“You sure that is a good idea?” She glanced at my arm.
“How about you get one ready just in case,” I suggested. Of course she was right. I wouldn’t admit it out loud. That would just confirm my weakness. It was polite of her not to mention it and simply play along.
As we sped down the road, Miranda grabbed a second rifle, loaded it and rested it between her knees. She also prepped a Glock for each of us.
I could hear the sounds of gunfire in fits and starts. It now had the sounds of a standoff. The barrage of a moment ago was now replaced by more sporadic firing. I just hoped that we arrived in time.
As I took a corner, our rear end fishtailing a bit as we came around it at a speed that was bordering on unsafe, I had to slam on the brakes to avoid a small cluster of the walking dead that were trudging in the direction of all the noise. The tires screeched and I heard Miranda curse as she threw her hands on the dash out of reflex—I was glad she’d made the effort to put on her seatbelt in all the chaos.
Edging to one side of the road, I made it around them as they all bounced and bumped off each other in an attempt to change their direction to face this newest noise. Once we were past, I stomped on the gas again and rocketed onwards toward the firefight.
When I was confident that we were within a couple of blocks, I brought us to a stop. Miranda didn’t need to be told, she was already climbing out of the car before I shut off the engine. A lone zombie wandered from the open front door of a house to my left. I winced as I recognized the MP3 player in the protective cage fastened to the person’s neck. He had been one of the people brought on that ill-fated run with me.
This person was a walking indictment of my culpability in the death of another human being who did not deserve to die. I mean, maybe the individual was a complete ass hat, but I would never know for sure. The dried blood all down his right side acted to cement his shirt to his flesh, making it difficult to see the actual injuries. That was little consolation as I stared at the pale flesh and tracer-riddled eyes.
Miranda shoved past me and drove a knife into the man’s temple. She shot me a sour look and then hurried down the side of that same house the zombie had emerged from. I shook off the emotions that were threatening to paralyze me at this most inopportune time and followed.
We reached a backyard with a tall fence that enclosed it. I heard a quick flurry of shots from just the other side. Since I had no idea who was who, I wasn’t sure how to go from here. I’d rushed in to do something, and only now was I realizing that, with the exception of Katy, Abby, the man who I was assuming to be the leader, and maybe one or two other faces, I had no idea who was on what side. It wasn’t as if they would be wearing signs or special uniforms that identified them. They would all be regular people.
Miranda crept over to the fence and crouched down. She glanced back to see me still standing there trying to figure out what to do next and waved me over to join her. I crouched down, probably more out of reflex since there were really no bullets flying in my direction.
“…two of them just made it behind that van,” a voice hissed from the other side of the fence. “Cover me and I will go around to catch them from behind.”
“Just remember, Don said to bring at least a couple back. We need some bodies to do the heavy lifting for the move tonight,” a second voice replied.
Problem solved, I thought as I brought my rifle up. Miranda reached over and put a restraining hand on the barrel of my weapon. She gave a curt shake of the head. I raised my eyebrows in question and she leaned in so close that I could feel her lips brush my ears as she spoke.
“As soon as we shoot, we give ourselves away. We need to know more before we just start going off, guns blazing.”
It made sense. The problem was that I had no idea how we would find anything out from the confines of this fenced-in backyard.
Pointing at me and then gesturing for me to stay put, Miranda moved down the length of the fence and then ducked behind a small shed that was in the corner. A moment later, she hurried back, staying low and moving quietly through the yard with almost catlike stealth.
Once more she leaned in close. “The yard next to this one is open…no fence. I am going to go over and try to move up behind the person on the other side.”
When she pulled back, I mouthed the words, “What do you want me to do?”
“Stay put and be ready to cover my ass,” was the silent response.
I wanted to object. After all, wasn’t it my decision to stop being a spectator to all this madness and start doing something? Those deaths were on my head, not hers. She didn’t know Ariel, Joan, Franklin, or that zombie that had wandered out of the house just a moment ago with the MP3 player around his neck.
Before I had the chance, she had spun around and scuttled back to the shed, vanishing behind it in a bubble of silence as the sounds of more gunshots came from my right, returned by shouts and return fire from the left. It seemed like we might be in the middle of all this madness.
I heard a yelp and what sounded like laughter. A moment later there was the deep boom of a shotgun. As soon as that noise rolled away, I could hear crying…begging…pleading. Then I heard a familiar voice.
“I’ll rip your fucking throats out, you pieces of human filth!” It was Kolowicz, and she was close.
Not more than a heartbeat later, a strangled gurgle came from the other side of the fence. That was enough for me. I got up, grabbed the top of the fence and peered over. I could see down the length of it, as well as through the mostly burned down house on the other side to the st
reet beyond where a group of familiar vehicles were all stopped. The van in front had spun sideways and made an effective barricade of the street. At least three bodies were sprawled on the ground near it.
“Don’t just stay there gawking, get over here,” Miranda hissed.
“C’mon, somebody else try me!” Kolowicz bellowed from just out of sight to my left beyond the house.
I threw a leg over and landed beside the dead man staring lifelessly up at the sky. The ground under him was darkening as blood leaked from someplace on his back.
Another volley of gunshots and return fire sounded. And then I heard another familiar voice.
“If you insist on you and your people all dying, continue to resist.” It was Arlo. “If you surrender now, I can promise that most of you will be allowed to live. Of course, our boss has final say, but from what I’ve seen, many of you would make good additions to our group.”
“You think I am going to believe anything you people say?” Kolowicz snorted, a sardonic laugh coloring her words. “Why would I even consider your offer?”
“Because,” Arlo replied solemnly, and then paused. At first I thought he’d simply decided to give a single word answer.
The crack of a rifle came from my immediate right, not too high above me. My head jerked around and I saw a figure crouched down behind the chimney of the neighboring house. The person had a scoped rifle pressed against one shoulder, the weapon adjusting just a fraction, and then spewing lead once more. It was followed by two shots from the left. My neck almost snapped as I jerked around to see a second sniper on the roof of that side as well.
“I can have every single member of your group picked off one by one.” There was no emotion in Arlo’s voice. He was stating a simple fact.
From all the commotion I heard out in the direction of the street, it was clear that there had just been multiple fatalities. I heard a mix of angry shouts that were almost drowned by wails of despair.
Miranda looked at me. This time I saw hesitation in her eyes. I felt nothing of the sort. I pointed to the roof on the left, and then her. I hiked my thumb to the right and then tapped myself on the chest.