“Follow me, Wayne,” Mrs. Williams said over the radio. “I think I see a way through.” We watched as she bumped over the median, nearly scraping a light pole, and slid between two cars, running over a couple of the dead, the wet dead.
“Gross.” Princess shuddered.
“I know, right?” I winced.
Highland followed, scraping against the light pole with a screech of metal on metal, and when he tried to follow the path his mother had taken between two cars the Escalade became wedged and the tires spun on the wet remains. Finally the tires caught, and with a groan the other cars moved enough to allow us to get through.
“Now we have guts under the car,” Princess pointed out the obvious.
Mrs. Williams weaved through the stalled traffic, and resumed her spot in the right lane after the median turned to double yellow lines.
“It should be easier going out here,” Highland said, as the road reduced to two lanes and the surrounding area transformed into farmland.
We passed a sign that stated Arlington was twenty miles ahead and Mrs. Williams turned onto a barely noticeable gravel road that looked hardly more than an overgrown forgotten driveway. “Is this your uncle’s place?” I said, as the limbs of the trees scraped the sides of the vehicle.
“No, we’re taking the shortcut.”
Princess laughed as Mrs. Williams deftly drove through a flowing stream. “Who would have ever thought Mrs. Williams went four-wheeling?”
“Hell, I didn’t even know she owned a pair of jeans,” I said, just as amazed as Princess, when the Jeep pulled from the woods and bounced into a large field. Thick power lines ran overhead and Mrs. Williams maneuvered the vehicle over a rarely used path up a hill, parking close to a tall metal tower that supported the heavy wires.
Rotten and I had called those pylons Langoliers ever since we watched the Stephen King movie by the same name, even though the electric lines had absolutely nothing to do with doom in the film. “This is not a good omen,” Rotten said, stepping out of the car.
We gathered, guns in hand, looking in the direction of Arlington. “That’s Black Oak road down there, we’re going to have to cross it to get to the orchards,” she explained, pulling the binoculars away from her eyes and handing them to Sully. We all took turns staring down at the road, agreed it looked deserted, and Mrs. Williams warned Highland to stay close to the tree line and to go slow. We climbed back in the car quickly and quietly; the threat of zombies now seemed minor when compared to soldiers.
“I think we missed the point of all those zombie movies,” Rotten said, as Highland pulled in behind the Jeep. “We always saw the zombies as the bad guys. We always made our plans around the undead being the biggest problem, but we never talked about the real bad guys and those are always the people in charge, if you can call them people. They are worse than any zombie, vampire, or monster ever conceived because they are real, have power, and don’t give a damn about us. In every movie there is someone creating the problem and someone else solving the problem, and we are just cannon fodder in the mix of all the monsters. It’s always the same. The zombies are just as much as a victim as we are, the only difference is that we know it.”
Despite a couple resigned sighs, we said nothing, what could we say? Since the beginning of time the unseen leaders had made all the decisions for the little people. And the little people, well, we just struggle and fight and try to claw our way to the top of the heap. And most people believed it was normal to work hard for forty or fifty years until they were old, sick, and tired with the hopes of being able to retire and live the life they’d always wanted, but others, like us, we fought against the notion, we wanted to live the life we’d always wanted now. These leaders, who we never see, who we don’t know, who are never on the news or having press conferences, make the rules that all of us live by from how much work or school we need to when we go to war. They decide everything from the food we can buy and consume to what is in fashion and popular. And they decide when to cull the herd.
We followed the Jeep across the highway, not seeing any traffic, and turned onto a rough trail beside a deserted farm stand with fading paint declaring Peaches! And soon the path opened up on the edge of a huge orchard and the bare craggy limbs looked ominous against the darkening sky. We were quiet for a moment, bumping along the orchard and then I asked the question that if it wasn’t on everyone else’s minds, it sure was on mine. “How did you meet Sully, Princess?”
“I’d like to know, too.” Rotten turned in his seat.
She sighed. “Remember how we all got those fake ids in high school?”
“Yeah, mine never worked, said I was forty-five,” Highland said.
“Mine did and I used to catch a ride downtown and hit the bars by myself. I guess I was looking for trouble or I was bored, it’s not like my foster parents gave a damn where I was. Anyway, I met him at that bar Indescribable and we dated for a few weeks. He broke up with me when he found out I was seventeen, evidently he doesn’t mind dating young women, as long as its legal. I was dumb, stupid, and thought I was so grown up dating an older guy, and he broke my heart.”
“I’ve noticed he does tend to date a lot of students and I remember your secret boyfriend, but you never told me his name,” I said.
“Yeah, I was living in fantasy land for a bit there and then I wised up. I don’t guess I can blame him too much, I did lie about my age.” She shook her head. “I was an idiot.”
“We all are sometimes.” Rotten turned to look out the windshield. “Any ideas of how we’re going to get across that fence once we get to it.”
“Not really,” Highland said. “But I was thinking if the fence is electric, maybe they can’t run it through the water, so we may have to canoe up river.”
“What if it electrifies the water?” I said.
“That is a possibility.” Highland said. “I can’t really believe they have us totally surrounded, not unless they have some kind of technology we’ve never heard of before. Some areas out here are rough, there are lots of hills and valleys, I can’t see how it would be humanly possible to cover it all with a fence, no matter how advanced it is, and if they have, maybe we can short it out somehow. I don’t know, but first we have to get to Uncle Paul’s place.”
“And if we get out, what then?” I said. “If they nuke Blacksport we’ve lost everything, most of us have already lost our parents and our homes, Princess has lost her business, and I’ve lost my family and everything I’ve ever owned. I don’t even have a change of clothes. And what if they track us though our bank cards which I’m sure will register at our bank on ground zero? Will they hunt us down to make sure no witnesses exist?”
“Probably.” Rotten sighed. “They probably will. We’d have to change our names, our entire identities, and be on the run for the rest of our lives. We can try to tell people, but who will believe us? It’s not like they’ll be breaking news on any of the networks, the people, or the real undead, controlling this situation will make sure of that. Think about it, if they are willing to kill the entire population of Blacksport, Freemont, and the surrounding areas, nearly a hundred thousand people, knocking off a few freaks like us is nothing.”
“With a secure connection I can figure out a way to get us new identities, we’ll just have to find a place to hole up for a little while so I can set it up.” Highland slowed to a stop behind his mother in the tree line.
“Y’all be quiet, don’t slam any doors, there are lights up ahead,” Mrs. Williams whispered over the radio.
We stepped out of the cars and gathered, watching headlights move into the center of the orchard. “Looks like a couple buses and a truck,” Mrs. Williams whispered, passing along the binoculars.
Even though the orchard was higher than the dirt path, and we were damned near in the trees, I darted low to the ground in a crouch, my heart pounding. The others followed my actions, except Sully who held the binoculars and studied the buses bumping into the orchard. “Why…” he
began as the vehicles stopped moving, and then ducked down with the rest of us.
The slam of two car doors drifted down to us and we stilled, straining to hear, and then a voice barked a string of words that sounded like an order. It was deeply quiet for a moment, as it can only be before a barrage of automatic gunfire and screams fill the air, and we all jolted with the first shot.
“No witnesses,” Rotten whispered.
“It’s really real,” Moonshine spoke the words that we were all feeling. It was really real, all of it, the zombies, the military, the unseen rulers deciding our fate, the threats on our person and sanity, all of it, was really real. Just like the movies, although unlike the movies in that there was no button to make it stop, fast-forward or rewind. It was real and the odds of us making it out alive were slim and each gunshot from the orchard punctuated the fact that there was little hope for us.
The screams stopped first, and the shots went on for a while longer, it seemed like minutes, but was probably just a few seconds. Again we heard a voice we couldn’t make out, and then the slam of car doors, four in all. A motor started and we watched the lights of the SUV turn around and bump out of the orchard, it crossed the path in front of us just beyond a small rise and we stayed low and quiet until the engine faded from our hearing.
“We should check for survivors,” Moonshine said, as we stood up and stepped onto the path.
“No one survived that,” Sully said and put the binoculars back to his eyes.
“You see anything,” Rotten asked.
“Just the buses, school buses.” Sully handed the glasses to Rotten and shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I heard kids screaming, too.”
“We have to check,” Moonshine repeated and I agreed. We decided quickly and Moonshine, Highland, and I ran into the orchard, staying close to the trunks of the bare trees. We approached the site slowly and stared at the dead, children and adults; the witnesses who could have helped tell the world. Then we saw something move in the pile.
“Shit!” A voice said and we saw movement again.
“Hello!” Moonshine called out.
Nothing, no one responded.
“We’re not the bad guys, and we’re not zombies. And we’re about to leave, so if you’re there, speak up.”
“Help me, I’m stuck under my dad.” A voice said and we saw a couple bodies shift.
Moonshine ran forward and rolled a large man away and a boy’s head popped up. The boy scooted backwards in the space made and pulled his legs free of a woman in a blood-saturated beige dress.
“Are you hurt,” Moonshine asked, helping the kid step over the bodies.
“I don’t think so,” he said, looking down at the stains on his clothes, and feeling his body with his hands. “I fell first when they started shooting, my dad landed on top of me, and then that woman fell on my legs. They missed me, but I’m glad you guys came along, there is no way I could lift my dad, he weighs like three hundred pounds.” He looked down at his father and wiped his eyes roughly, swallowing hard. “Fuckers killed my dad.”
Moonshine nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait.” The boy reached down to the dead man and pulled a wallet free. “Bye, Dad,” he whispered, wiped his cheeks again, and looked up at Moonshine. “Where are we going?”
We ran back to our group with the boy. He said his name was Will Statler, he was twelve years old, and then he quickly told us his story. He and his dad were walking out of a movie theater when it happened and the people started going crazy and attacking. He said they made it to their car, out of Blacksport, and back to their home in Peachdale, where his dad immediately called the police. The next thing he knew soldiers were knocking on the door and said they were evacuating everyone. They went, thrilled to be rescued, and were held in the school gymnasium until an hour earlier when they were loaded on the buses. He said that throughout the day, more and more people were brought in, some were stopped on their way to Arlington, and others had been pulled from their homes. “We thought we were getting out when they loaded us on the bus, none of us thought they were going to kill us.” He finished and looked down at his bloody clothes. “Why are they killing us?”
“They can’t have any witnesses,” Rotten said. “They did this to us, it’s some sort of experiment I think. Did you or your dad take that shot for the mosquito disease?”
“No.” Will shook his head. “It wasn’t required for us, just for Blacksport and Freemont.”
“It’s really real, guys,” Rotten said. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t suppose y’all have any clothes that will fit me.” Will looked down at his bloody attire, and back up to us, his eyes pleading.
“If you don’t mind girl clothes, I think we’re about the same size.” Princes looked him up and down, and walked to the Escalade for her pack. She pulled out a pair of worn jeans and a dark sweatshirt. “This isn’t girly stuff,” she said, handing the clothes over.
“Thanks.” Will took the clothes and stepped around the Jeep to change out of our sight.
We got back in the cars, Will sliding in the back of the Jeep beside Moonshine, and started out again, moving slowly without any lights, despite the fact that it was now fully dark. A couple helicopters passed overhead and I glanced at the clock in the dash, it was just after seven. “I guess they’re starting to get out of here, I guess their experiment is nearly done.”
“I wonder how many times they’ve done it before and when it’s going to go national,” Rotten said.
“Do you really think they’ve done it before,” I asked.
“Definitely, no doubt in my mind. I’ve been thinking about some news articles that I read in the last couple months, didn’t think much of them at the time, just that they were weird for some reason I couldn’t put my finger on, but now I think it was zombie test one and two. One was out west somewhere, I can’t remember which state, but according to the article a wild fire - like the fastest wild fire ever recorded - moved through a small isolated town and razed the place, they said there were no survivors. There was a lot of talk of the sudden winds and the like, but it’d never happened before and no one had a chance to escape.
“The other one was in Texas, another small, isolated town, a bit higher population than the place out west, and this time it was a gas explosion. And again there were no survivors, the number of the dead was in the hundreds, they said every house on the gas line blew up. And funny enough, neither story got a lot of attention by the media, just a passing sentence on the scroll at the bottom of the screen. I had to get online to find more info and there were only a couple articles. Two whole towns disappear and there is barely any news, but if a celebrity says the wrong thing or is accused of being a racist it’s all we hear about.”
“Well we’re talking about a lot more people than a few hundred now,” I said and another helicopter passed above.
“I guess they’ve gotten cocky, they’ve already gotten away with it twice, so what the hell? I wonder how they do it, or did it. Do you think they set up a viewing area in one of the buildings downtown and watched us like mice in a lab? They wouldn’t do all this if they couldn’t see what was happening. Or do you think they watch from the cameras that are at every intersection?”
“Both,” Highland said. “The top dogs, the real monsters, wouldn’t be anywhere near this, they are sitting somewhere safe, on luxurious furniture, drinking liquor that we will never be able to afford, and watching it all unfold on a screen. But some of their underlings are here for sure. Someone is probably observing from the penthouse of the old Litchfield building and taking orders from the bigwigs and giving orders to the folks on the ground.”
“Yeah, the Litchfield has a heliport on top,” Princess said. “That building has always given me the creeps the way it looms over the town, it’s twice the size of the other buildings, and that glass walled penthouse is just wrong.”
“I bet it has a hell of a view, though.” I had often wondered what the view w
as like that high up, but Princess was right, it didn’t fit in with the surrounding buildings and looked completely out of place.
“It had a hell of a view last night,” Highland agreed. “At any rate, I suspect they are getting the hell out of dodge on those helicopters and I think we were right about the twenty-four window before they push the button.”
“Three hours,” Rotten said softly.
“Do you think they’ll pull the fences and take the soldiers with them,” I asked. “Or just leave them here to die?”
“No witnesses,” Highland said. “I don’t know, it probably depends on their rank and clearance, I don’t think they’ll care about the grunts.”
“And they will be able to keep it a secret, too. You’d think in these days of the Internet it would be easy to get the word out, but I think it’s censored and controlled just as much as the TV,” Princess said.
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