by Mark Clodi
"This is messed up. It is like he has rigor mortis or something." Max muttered after they finally got Javier in the seat diagonally.
"But he is doing okay, as far as you can tell?" Stewart asked.
"Yeah, I guess. I can see his colors pretty well and....and Aubrey was right, I should have been trying to use this power I have, test it and strengthen it. I can't see his bones, not directly, but when I look close I can see where his body is flowing around his bones, which leaves some hollow spaces. It's weird, but I swear I can see that his leg is almost whole again, no blood flowing around the damaged hollow space. When I look at both legs they look almost symmetrical."
"Portal x-ray machine. I'll add that to your list of talents." Stewart clapped Max on the back and walked him over to 'his' cruiser. "You shouldn't have any problems with this baby. It's automatic, but has paddle shifting, you know what that is?"
"No."
"Think of it like an override for the automatic transmission, you can force the car into a lower or higher gear if you need to accelerate faster, I doubt you'll use it to shift up much."
Max examined the steering wheel controls and nodded, "Okay, I can't see how that is useful, but I guess I get it. I'll mess with it when we get on the road. The zombies are closer. We better get that fuel and get out of here."
Ruben had the trunk to their car open and let out a long whistle. He held the bomb in one hand as if he were intending to put it into the trunk.
"What?"
"A box of crap." Ruben replied.
"Good crap or bad crap?" asked Max.
"That's another thing I like about you, Max. You have different categories of 'crap'." Stewart said walking around to the back of the car. She took one look and said, "Mixed crap, we got nuggets of gold here, but other bits are only corn." She reached into a large cardboard box and brought out a short, heavy, machete. The blade was sharp and ugly looking. Someone had ground it down into a sharper point, leaving the blade about eighteen inches long.
"Why would the police need that?" asked Bill, walking over to them.
The box contained all sorts of crude clubs, knives, swords, chains and other makeshift style weapons. Among the 'bad crap' were a few reasonable pieces of equipment, like the machete Stewart had. Max brought out a bowie style knife and pulled it out of its leather sheath.
He tested the blade with his finger tips and pulled it away quickly from his hand, a small drop of blood appeared on his ring finger.
"Ouch! Fucking-a! That's sharp!"
Stewart laughed, "This is probably confiscated stuff, things they took off people they were arresting or found when they searched their cars."
"Wouldn't it go into an evidence locker?" Max asked.
"Oh, Max! You don't know the half of how law enforcement works, do you? If we busted people for every little thing they did wrong we'd need three times as many jails. No, these, I can guarantee, were just taken off of the criminally stupid who hadn't done anything wrong. Think of it as a safety precaution. No sane person is going to come crawling back to the officer who took their bowie knife and ask for it back. In return the weapon is out of the hands of someone who probably didn't need it."
"But that's...stealing!"
"Right. So you'd rather serve a few months in jail for carrying a concealed weapon than give up your, what? Hundred dollar knife? Most people figure out that not spending time in jail and money on lawyers is a better deal. Plus this stuff isn't in evidence, so it would likely just disappear if anyone complained anyway."
"So why did they keep it?" Max asked.
"I dunno. I knew guys back in Denver who did this too, as long as it wasn't a gun. They showed each other what they found on the guys and laughed about it. Kind of a macho thing. But kind of not, any one of the guys this stuff came off of, could have turned it on the officer or someone else. Maybe they used it as a way of keeping score. You want to know the real shit of it? I mean if these weapons had been put into the evidence locker?"
"What?"
"They probably would have been sold at auction to make more money for law enforcement. We destroyed guns in Denver and I don't recall selling junk like this at auction, but I know other places did. Kind of a repeating cycle, huh? We confiscate, it gets sold to help buy us a new radar gun and then we might end up confiscating it again." Stewart looked the machete over and experimentally tucked it into the back of her belt. "Does it make my ass look fat?"
Max stared at the woman's posterior, not knowing how to answer. Combat fatigues made everyone's ass look fat, in Max's opinion. Finally he said, "It makes you look like a central American revolutionary. Real Che Guevara."
Stewart tilted her head sideways and looked over her shoulder at him, "Max, you say the nicest things sometimes!"
"You won't be able to sit in the car with it like that." Max pointed out.
"Oh, I'll just let it ride up a little and tuck it back down when I get out."
"I hate to interrupt your bonding, but where are the zombies at, Max?" Bill asked.
"Close. We're probably going to have to clear them. I think some supers are coming up from further out."
"Well, let's get the cars pulled around and see about filling them."
Bill's vehicle, by chance was the first to the garage area, the yard was surrounded by a chain link fence that was locked with a chain and padlock. He got out of his car and looked the gate over as the first zombie stumbled out of the brush twenty yards away. Stewart, who was in the last car in line, got out of her vehicle, she was holding the machete in one hand and approached the zombie head on.
Max stepped out of his car and steadied his rifle on the top of the vehicle. The zombie stumbled towards Stewart and she swiped it in the side of the head, slicing off the top third and sending the bloody-black hairy bit flying away into the grass. Oddly it resembled a mole hill.
The zombie toppled and Stewart cleaned off her machete on the man's overalls.
"Disgusting. How's that gate coming Bill?" Max asked.
"I've got it open. Let's move on in."
Ducking his head into the car Max said, "Ruben, would you drive? I'll stay here and shoot zombies as they show up."
"Sure. I can drive." Ruben said sliding over to the wheel.
Max took up a position at the gate and waved the old man and Stewart through. She paused and her passenger window, next to Max, rolled down.
"Where ya headed good looking?" she asked with a grin.
"Very funny. There are a few more coming, I'll stay here and make sure they don't get in. You just fill up and get back here."
Stewart looked at Max and then at the pump, which was about forty feet away. Bill and Ruben were already stopped close to it. Finally she nodded, "Jeez, we just lost you, don't go vanishing again on us."
"There's no fog. I'll stay in sight at all times. Go on."
Stewart drove off and left Max staring into the woods. Some of the zombies approaching were moving faster than the others. He turned his gaze away from where they were coming from and towards the slower ones, keeping his mind's eye open at all times. He didn't know what he was looking for, he was going by instinct, knowing something was going to happen. Max reverted to using his normal vision and checked out the gate, the chain was still hanging loosely wrapped through the chain links. One end was weighed down with a broken padlock; Bill hadn't used a tool to break it, not that Max had seen.
"So you're still strong, I see." Max muttered quietly about Bill. Checking on the approaching zombies he noticed the ones that had been approaching quickly had slowed down to a more cautious pace. Concentrating Max tried to get into their heads, to see what they were thinking. Despite his efforts he got nothing. Well almost nothing, while he was watching he noticed the slightest of pulses, a merest trace of their dead, bluish energy that raced from one of them to the slower shamblers off to Max's right side. The dead on that side stopped, just inside the tree line and out of sight from normal vision.
"What the fuck." Max said softl
y while continuing to watch. He noticed several more pulses until all the shamblers to his right all stopped in a line parallel to the tree line. With growing excitement he realized what he must be seeing was the 'leader' giving the lesser zombies orders. Redoubling his efforts to break into the super zombies mind didn't get him inside its head, but when the next pulse came out Max felt it clearly, it said, 'Move'. The order sprang from the super zombie and raced towards the waiting zeds to the right. Max grabbed the message, and time seemed to slow down as he disseminated it. Then he changed it.
It was a gut reaction, nothing Max would have done had he had time to think about it. He changed the message to 'Move further right'. The shamblers all headed off that direction along the inside edge of the woods. Max was really excited now, he thought he had unlocked a way to force the zombies back and proceeded to issue them new orders, to head back into the woods, to attack the supers, to stop...it all amounted to nothing. No little blue data packet flew from Max's head out to the shamblers. He couldn't create a message on his own.
The super realized something had gone wrong and sent another pulse along to his minions; the second time around Max snagged it easily and reinterpreted it to 'Move back into the woods'. He was disappointed that he could not send out orders of his own, but this was new, and useful. It came as a complete shock when the padlock flew up from the gate and belted him in the side of the head.
"Holy fuck!" Max yelled, thinking, 'one of them is telekinetic!' It took him a moment to realize that no one had flung the lock at him using telekinesis, the lock had merely been shot with a rifle and bounced into the side of his head. While he was so busy keeping an eye on the super zombies messages one of them had moved forward far enough to take a shot at him with a rifle.
Over at the fuel pump, the others were running towards the fence closest to the woods raising their rifles and firing randomly into the trees.
"What?" Max wondered, then he heard Stewart yelling at him to get down. Max fell to the ground out of sight as another bullet whizzed by in the place he had been standing a moment before.
A volley of gunfire rolled out of the woods, forcing his friends to take cover behind the equipment in the work yard. Max had thrown himself down behind a pile of what looked like rail road ties sitting just inside the gate. Reaching out he intercepted yet more orders for the shamblers and twisted them to his own end. The orders were coming so frequently that Max didn't have time to do more than change them to basic marching orders, he settled on directing the zombies to head back into the woods away from his position. Max safely watched the rest of the physical fight unfold while constantly shifting the super's orders to the shamblers.
The return gunfire was more accurate than Bill liked, it must be true that the zombies could see the living through obstacles, not that he had doubted Max's word. He looked over at his companions, then beyond them for a moment to where Max was laying with his eyes shut forty feet away. No one was hurt yet. Thoughts of how to proceed were spinning through his head when he heard Stewart swear.
"Fuck. I liked that water bottle you assholes!" her hip was dripping where a bullet had caught the bottle in her belt pouch. "Indestructible my ass." Stewart muttered looking at the broken piece of plastic. She caught Bill's gaze and nodded, "So? Ideas?"
"Get in the cars and drive?"
"We need to fuel up."
"Oh shit." Bill said, looking behind them at the fuel tank and the three squad cars. The pump was not powered, it was a simple gravity pump and he had left it in the tank of his car, as he watched the fuel filled the tank and then started to pour out onto the ground.
"Go fix that cowboy, I'll run interference."
"Wait! Stewart!" Ruben cried, a moment too late.
The woman took a short leap to the top of what looked like a blue delivery van, it was an impressive jump from a kneeling position and she didn't stop there, she ran down the length of the van and vaulted over the six foot high chain link fence and into the woods. Bullets tried to catch her as she flew, but they were microseconds too slow. Bill paused to watch Stewart's progress open mouthed. Ruben was more practical; he ran back to the overflowing car and shut the pump off.
"C'mon Bill!" the old man yelled shutting the fuel tank. He ran around to the driver's side and pulled the car twenty feet forward. Bill was still staring at him open mouthed when he got out.
"Bill, move the other car up!" Ruben yelled.
Spurred to action Bill raced towards the second cruiser and hopped in, the keys were still in the ignition and he pulled it forward until Ruben could slot the nozzle into the tank to begin filling it up. After getting the pump open he ducked down to the pavement taking cover from the sporadic bullets flying out of the woods. He still couldn't see anything to target.
Bill shut the car off, engaged the emergency brake and ran back to Stewart's cruiser. Thankfully, she had left the keys in the ignition. He moved her car up until it was touching the bumper of the cruiser being fueled. With any luck Ruben could fill this one up without having to move either of them again.
From the woods the gun fire was intensifying. No more bullets were flying their way, Bill looked at Ruben and yelled, "You think you can handle this?"
"Sure, go help her." Ruben yelled back.
Bill ran towards the exit where Max was lying, stopping just inside the gate and using the thick square-cut logs as cover. "What are you doing?"
"I'm concentrating. I can...do things to them Bill."
"What are you talking about?"
"I can change what they say to the shamblers. I am making the weak zombies go away. It's hard to explain. I kept trying to do what Aubrey said, just kept looking at them and I can see them when they talk to each other."
"Ah, yeah, okay. That's...good?"
"It is. There is more to it than that, I can change it sometimes. I think I made it so the slow zombies won't eat us."
"Max, can we talk about this later? I need to know where Stewart is."
"She's in there. With them." Max said, gesturing, eyes still closed, to the woods.
"We should go help her."
"I am helping her!" Max said, exasperated.
"So she is alive?"
"She is thriving."
Chapter 28 -- Stewart
The jump to the top of the van had come as a shock to her. Stewart didn't think she could go that high, she had been aiming to hop on the sloping hood and then jump up to the top from there. The idea had been to use the van to get over the fence, instead of running the long way past Max. After her injuries she had felt slow as if treading through molasses. She hadn't tried to use her speed and strength since being hurt, she was afraid the abilities were gone, that maybe she had just been hyped up on adrenaline and was suffering from mis-remembering. She hadn't shared her fear with the others either. 'Trial by fire. Don't abuse it. Conserve.' Those were her thoughts.
Now she wondered why she had waited so long. Like Max her abilities had a conscious element to them. There was a constant vibe that beat through her body, just begging to be tapped into. When she dipped into it she felt so much more alive, so much stronger, she felt invincible. For these reasons Stewart tried to rein in what she was feeling. She tried to ride the beast, instead of letting it ride her. She remembered the fight with Ella. More importantly she remembered Ella. The woman had been alive and had been taken down by an old man with a knife, he had assessed the situation and used Ella's desires against her. If Ella could be so attracted to blood and killing that it led to her downfall...it almost went without saying that Stewart could have the same weakness.
Still when the bullets started flying at her she didn't hesitate to give the beast she was riding a little more freedom. Raw, animal instinct took over and she spun sideways into the tree line, barely avoiding the projectiles that were flying out at her. Stewart ducked and rolled forward towards the only super zombie she could see, her speed and trajectory took him by surprise and he had barely begun to shift his rifle to aim at the woman lyin
g on the ground by his feet when she kicked straight up, knocking his rifle skywards. Stewart still had her rifle, it was cradled in both arms and parallel with her body, with the barrel towards her head. When her foot came down, the barrel came up, three shots rang out in quick succession and the zombie's head deformed under the onslaught.
This brought his friends out of the woodwork. To Stewart's left two women, with clear, shining eyes rushed into view and stopped when they saw her. On her right three burly men, looking like lumberjacks coming home from work stepped out of the brush. The five lowered their rifles towards her in uncanny unison and Stewart shouted, "Surrender and you don't have to die!"
"I'm gonna eat your pussy lady and not in the good way!" shouted one of the super zombies, pulling the trigger on his rifle. Stewart bucked sideways and rolled to a crouch, the bullet hit the ground where she had been laying, kicking up leaves and sodden twigs.
"She's fast." The older woman murmured, "All together."
But they didn't fire in unison, the woman giving the orders fired and Stewart rocked sideways, bringing her own rifle around, firing as it pulled into line. The younger woman crumpled as at least two bullets hit her in the shoulders, the older woman's shot caught Stewart right in the stock of her rifle, ricocheting into the ground and splitting Stewart's rifle into pieces. Stewart tossed the rifle butt at the lead man, who attempted to block with his own rifle, but was too slow.
Stepping downhill, Stewart lunged for the concealment of a large, leafy bush, and then stumbled over a log to the ground. The zombies behind her riddled the air just above her head with bullets.
'This was a good idea?' she thought to herself, 'Of course it was, the others will be here soon.'
Reaching to her belt Stewart grabbed for her pistol. The holster was empty. With her left hand she pulled the short combat blade from her belt. Another thought struck her and she reached to her back and took comfort in the hard, plastic grip of the machete, still tucked into her belt.