“Bruce!” She says while pulling on her friend. He is stuck solid in the ground and not letting go of the cable. She cries as she stumbles towards the winch. She switches the device on, winding in the slack.
The old man is yanked from of the congealing soil up to his naval. Rash switches off the winch and rushes to him. His hand releases and he slumps forward. She has to flip him onto his back so she can check his vital signs. No pulse. He isn’t breathing.
“What next?” She frantically tries to remember all of the CPR classes she had taken through the Army. She wipes his mouth free of as much of the gritty slop that she can. She inserts her finger into his mouth to clear the airway. Pinching the man’s nose she is about to commence rescue breathing, an internal struggle stops her.
He’s dead, she states inside her head. He isn’t breathing and his heart has stopped, he’s technically deceased. Can I put my mouth on his if he is dead and not turn? What if I’m performing CPR and he turns? She has visions of this happening, of Bruce biting her tongue off. Can I risk it?
She disregards her apprehensions and locks her mouth around his. Regardless of the uncertainty she breathes for him. She compresses his chest trying to get his heart going again. She cycles through the counts, hoping to get him back.
“Come on Bruce. Come back. Come back… In a good way, come back.”
In the middle of one of the life giving breaths, Bruce moves. Rash scurries out of reach. She doesn’t know if he is alive or undead until he coughs. An aerosol of dirt sprays the back of his hand.
“If you wanted to kiss me…” Bruce rasps. “You could have just asked.”
“I’m glad you’re not a zombie, you old fuck.” Rash smiles.
“Same here.” Bruce says. He looks at the soldier girl in her wet and dirty tank top that clings to her perky breasts. “I just had an idea.”
“What’s that?” Rash leans back. All the tension pent up in her body released once the old man coughed.
“At one of my clubs, we’ll combine mud wrestling with the wet tee shirt contest. It’ll be great.”
Rash crosses her arms to conceal her erect nipples.
“I told you to keep your shirt.” Bruce laughs as he pulls himself the rest of the way out of Mother Nature’s botched assassination attempt. He can see the truck is never coming out of its predicament. “Looks like we’re walking.”
They gather all the gear they don’t want to leave behind into a pile and Bruce makes a fire. They decide to eat before beginning the last leg of the journey on foot.
“You know,” Bruce says. “For saving a king’s life you get three wishes.”
“Really?” Rash asks.
“The sky’s the limit.”
“I wish I was king then.” She laughs.
“Try again.”
“I wish I could write in your diary.”
“No.” Bruce denies her second wish flatly.
“Come on, Bruce. My insights might be very… Insightful.”
“It is the historic documentation of a king’s journey across the zombie world. Kids will be taught this in school. Movies will be made of it. Minstrels will tour far and wide singing my praises.” Bruce stands up to emphasize his point. His arms are stretched outward to show the grandeur of it all.
“That’s bullshit.” Rash pouts.
“Tough luck, cupcake.”
“I saved your life,” Rash’s eyes widen as she realizes something, an accusing finger points at Bruce. “You don’t want me to write about you almost drowning.”
“Kings can’t drown.” Bruce sits.
“Sure they can.”
“Have you ever heard of a king drowning? No. See?” Bruce reluctantly gives Rash one of his spare shirts to wear as they break camp. The clothes they wear are caked with mud, they are just happy to finally be dry. Rash looks at the pile of gear they have to lug.
“How far is it?” She asks.
“Quite.” Bruce says crouched over the pile. He puts his one remaining bird into a lunch sack that he has poked holes into. He dumps out his toolbox and loads it full of ammunition. Once the weapons are slung, they are ready to go.
Night has fallen by the time the two climb up the slick embankment. On more than one occasion they slide back, losing what progress they are making. It’s a long hill without too steep of an incline, the mud just makes it more difficult than it should be. For every two steps forward they are taken back one. By the time they reach the top they’re already exhausted.
The full moon gives them light as they step onto the road somewhere in Vermont. Bruce takes the lead only to be halted by an unseen object in the shadows. He rebounds off of the solid structure and almost falls to the ground. The object makes a sound; a deep hoot like an out of tune trombone. The old man becomes a statue. His arm holds Rash back so she remains behind him.
“Oh shit.” Bruce whispers.
“What’s up?” Rash asks as she brings her rifle to her shoulder. She doesn’t know what to expect at this point.
“Just stay to the side of the road, and keep moving.” Bruce tells her. She notices the man isn’t following her. She looks back and can’t see a thing in the shroud of darkness. She takes out her flashlight and shines it in Bruce’s direction. The man is staring into the eyes of the largest animal she has ever seen outside of a zoo.
Bruce, on the other hand, has seen many moose in his day. This one is as tall as a horse and twice as wide. Moose are notorious for hanging out on roads around the New England states. Small vehicles hit them and get totaled, usually killing the driver, the moose just walks away. They also have bad tempers, and a tendency to charge.
He can see the beast’s large black eyes staring back into his as he side steps away, not breaking the gaze. He hopes Rash doesn’t make any sudden moves. He’s amazed the thing didn’t knock him around with its giant rack of antlers when the girl shined the light their way.
Bruce is at Rash’s side and the moose continues to stare. It snorts loudly from its massive nose. The old man nudges the girl to start walking as he keeps between the behemoth and his friend. Bruce keeps a watchful eye on it as they proceed.
They have seen many animals on the roads; the wildlife is getting brave since the cars have stopped traveling. That moose isn’t out because humans aren’t around. Moose don’t care about human activity, they do their own thing.
“What was that?” Rash asks once they are far enough away from the thing that she feels safe enough to speak.
“Moose.” Bruce responds. He keeps looking back towards the animal in case it decides to attack.
“Dangerous?”
“In the wrong situations, it’s best not to mess with them.”
The two continue to walk well into the night. The soles of their feet burn from blisters soon to be. They don’t know what time it is, but as they cross the border between Vermont and New Hampshire they decide to take a break. They eat some of the sandwiches, and try to grab a short nap.
#
Log entry 3
Hello New Castle. My name is Rashida Steele. You can call me Rash. As I understand it I am in the running to become your new queen. It is an honor to be nominated, but I regrettably must decline the position. I am here right now trying to sleep next to the king. The man’s snoring makes it very difficult. How can I lead a kingdom if I am unable to sleep?
I am looking forward to meeting all of you and I hope to make myself useful. I saved the king’s life today and he says I get 3 wishes. He doesn’t want you to know how he almost…
#
Official log entry 3
Pay no attention to the last entry, folks. I must keep it intact for historical reasons, and as evidence of treason. Have no fear the perpetrator of this atrocity will be brought to justice upon our return.
12
Bruce and Rash pass a sign that tells them they are now entering the town of Vermelho. They are exhausted from the long walk, having only rested for a brief time. Rash had snuck Bruce’s diary while
he napped and attempted to make an entry in it. He caught her and amended her log. Then he spent a few minutes talking about treason and loyalty to the throne. He further went on to talk about something called prima nocta that he is interested in reviving. She finds it difficult at times to tell whether he is kidding or not.
The road is thankfully free of opposition. The desolation is as disheartening as it is comforting, they are happy to be safe, yet saddened by the lack of living souls. It’s hard to believe that a world everyone said was becoming too overcrowded has been reduced to mere handfuls of survivors.
They walk uphill towards the heart of the town, having passed a few quiet homes and businesses. There isn’t even a zombie in sight in the early dawn. The only sound aside from their own footfalls is that of the animals.
Birds still fly and squirrels still frolic. They see a bear rummaging through a garbage can outside of a small diner. Domestic animals roam freely. A cat had seen them and purred, swiping its side along their legs, hungry for affection.
“Shit!” Bruce exclaims at the top of the hill, looking down into Vermelho. “I forgot all about this.”
Rash rubs her tired eyes with the cleaner of her two hands. The streets of the once mildly populated town are full of zombies. Throngs of them mill about with hardly any room to move without bumping into one another. The town square looks like a state fair for the undead.
“What is it?” Rash asked.
“This town was founded when my great, greats built that granite quarry.” Bruce points off to the right. Adjacent to the town is a large hole in the ground that had been dug and striped in the name of capitalism. “That was two hundred years ago as of November 27th. Everyone who has ever lived here, along with everyone from the neighboring communities was invited to celebrate Vermelho’s bicentennial. I was supposed to come out for it, but something came up.”
“Better late than never.” Rash says. “Looks like you missed one hell of a time.”
They just stare down into the town of zombies moving shoulder to shoulder. Bruce wishes he had some sort of explosive, or an RPG. There is only one road to his childhood home, and it’s currently out of service. The dead stand, barring his way to his brother.
The road travels through the town, which actually encircles half of the quarry like a crescent moon. It curves up a steep hill. Bruce can actually see his brother’s home, gleaming in the morning sun. The blue house overlooks the quarry its residents still own.
“That’s Wallace’s place.” Bruce points out the home for Rash. “I grew up there.”
“So,” Rash starts her question by dragging the word out a bit. “How do we get up there?”
“We’ll have to take the quarry pass.” Bruce says, pointing to the jagged walls of sheer rock face.
“Are you kidding?” Rash asks bewildered by the idea.
“I used to do it all the time as a kid.”
“That was a long fucking time ago.”
“Hey, watch it.” Bruce says defensively. “We aren’t climbing so much as exploring a cave. You have your flashlight, right?”
“Yeah.” She pulls the slim black light out. “Why?”
“It allows us to see in the dark.” He answers her with a furrowed brow.
The dead have not yet noticed them. Bruce estimates there must be a thousand of them crammed into his hometown. He has never seen so many people in the town at one time. He wonders where they had all been staying when they were alive and here to celebrate.
“See that gravel road that leads into the quarry?” Bruce asks Rash. “We need to take that. The gate looks open, probably for the tour. It hasn’t been an active quarry for about ten years. Schools bring kids here to learn about the mining process, and rocks. College kids come to poke around like they know what the fuck they’re doing.”
“Can you get back on track?” Rash nudges the man.
“Sorry. We’ll have to go in and stay to the left. There’s a ledge that hugs the rim of the hole.”
“How narrow?”
“Don’t ask.”
“How far is the drop?”
“Don’t ask that either.” Bruce stands. “Ready?”
“No, but let’s get it over with.”
They run down the hill towards the open gate. Many sets of starved eyes turn to the sound of living feet dashing across gravel. The horde starts heading towards the food. They haven’t had a bite in months and are extremely peckish.
They enter the gate and Bruce stops; he planned on shutting the chain-link door, but it has been secured to the fencing with a padlock. The zombies are too close for him to shoot the lock so he can close it. He has to abandon the idea and re-join his friend.
The path under their feet is made of lose rocks that crunch and slide. It is sloped downward which means the dead that follow will be even faster. Rash turns around mid-stride to see how close the dead are and she slips on the gravel. She lands on her hands and knees. Bruce grabs her by her pants and gets her back on her feet.
The deep gouge in the planet is getting closer, and the path they are on is starting to narrow. Rash slows when she sees the ledge Bruce was talking about. It is a lip of rock about two feet wide, enough for one to utilize, however, in the face of things Rash is worried. The drop is further than she feared. She finds the distance from where she now stands and the bottom to be immeasurable. Jagged rocks line the fall. She feels dizzy.
“You go first.” She tells her partner.
“No.” He points to the ledge and gently pushes her towards it. He looks back at the dead; they have made the turn and are closing fast. Bruce wants her to go first just in case she chickens out half way and he has to help her along, and so he can deal with any of the zombies who happen to be able to cross with them.
Rash heads along the ledge, trying to stay as far to the rock face as possible. She is going slower than Bruce likes, but so far it’s fast enough. He looks back and sees the dead reach the ledge without slowing. They begin to bump and push each other off the side. The corpses fall into the chasm. They plummet hundreds of feet hitting the tall shards along the way.
Some are able to walk along the narrow surface. This wipes the smile from Bruce’s face. He knows the cave well. He feels with the healthy lead they have, they should be fine. He aims his pistol at the dead and is about to shoot.
“Rash, I’m going to fire, OK?” He warns. The last thing he wants is to startle her and cause her death. They still have a ways to go as the ledge curves around the hill.
Bruce squeezes the trigger and puts a round in the leader of the pack’s head. The corpse falls over the side. He was hoping to put one down on the ledge so the others will trip over it. He tries a body shot, but it only staggers the next ghoul.
They are almost to the other side. Bruce gives one last attempt, blowing out the zombie’s left kneecap. The dead woman’s body crumples to the path, scraping down the face of the wall. Her leg is only a stump, but she is still moving. Her pace is slower at least. He aims to put her down for the count, to his chagrin the weapon clicks dry.
“Fuck.” He has the other weapons, but doesn’t want to waste the time if his scheme somehow fails him. They are at the cave and Bruce needs to warn Rash of a few details before they enter.
“Once inside don’t speak too loudly. Don’t shoot unless you have no other choice. Make sure you give a warning before you shoot. Gunshots will be extremely loud in here, and could cause a cave in, or disturb the bats.” His explanation gets quieter and quieter as they walk through the mouth of the pitch-black cavern.
“Bats?” Rash hates bats.
“Yeah, if you hear flapping don’t try to dodge out of the way. They will only hit you if you move suddenly.”
They proceed through the musty smelling darkness. Rash’s light barely dents the total void they are in.
“Oh.” Bruce adds. “Try not to touch the floor of the cave with your bare skin.”
“Why?” Rash asks. The ground feels soft under her feet.
“Don’t ask.”
Rash keeps the light moving from side to side as they walk through the gently winding tunnel. She wonders if they are in danger of getting lost. Bruce said he hasn’t done this since he was a kid. She tries to relax. They haven’t taken any actual turns. It has been a straight shot so far.
The dead moan behind them. The cave vibrates from their deep wails. It sounds like they are all around them in the darkness. Rash starts to walk a little faster. Bruce grabs her arm and she almost yelps.
“Don’t walk ahead of me.” He warns her in a whisper.
“Why?”
“There’s a nasty drop off up ahead.”
“This is the worse plan ever.” She has never been so scared in her entire life. This combines so many of the things she hates in life; heights, bats, the dark, and the newest on the list: zombies.
The tunnel starts to slope downwards and Rash becomes even more afraid, she didn’t think such a thing was possible. Her new fear comes from knowing the dead will be coming at them even faster on the slope.
The light scans the ceiling and she sees the bats. They look like little quivering balls of fuzz clinging overhead. She tries to avoid walking directly below the tiny mammals and in the process she trips over a protruding rock, falling forward towards the floor of the cave. Bruce catches her by her armpits. The flashlight falls from her hands and rolls under a shelf made in the rock wall.
Before disappearing under the ledge of stone the light reveals to Rash what Bruce wanted her to avoid touching. The floor of the cave is an undulating sea of large black bugs. She thought she had heard water as they moved through the passage; it’s actually the large insects. Their hard-shelled bodies make a slight click as they climb over one another. The millions of creatures in constant motion multiply that slight sound.
Bruce stops Rash from reaching under the shelf to get the light. “Let me. Those are some sort of beetle that I have forgotten the name of. They’re flesh eaters.”
Life Among The Dead Page 45