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Empire Of Salt

Page 20

by Weston Ochse


  She thought back to the empty chains she'd seen. Were those evidence of zombies who'd escaped, or were they evidence of zombies yet to be made?

  Metzger grabbed her attention by waving a hand in front of her mask. She jerked back, startled momentarily, then looked at him. He indicated that they should move behind the zombie to another shape down the line. She agreed that that would be the ideal, allowing them to look at the zombies without affording the creatures the same opportunity. There was no telling what the zombies might do if they saw her and Metzger. So they headed off at a right angle, swimming slowly towards the next large shadow in line.

  This one was much like the last, except it had no hair at all. Parts of the skull showed through the skin. Darker greens indicated that it might have been in the water longer, or at least dead longer.

  They continued, swimming past zombie after zombie. She quickly lost count, but they must have numbered in the hundreds. Natasha suddenly realized the immensity of what she was seeing. The broad, unbroken expanse of concrete had been created to hold zombies in rows so that they could be tested. Water was a far cry from space, but just as unbreathable. That this immense slab existed just beneath the surface of the sea within a stone's throw of the town of Bombay Beach was terrifying.

  Finally she and Metzger came upon a connection where a zombie had broken free of one of its manacles. Not broken free, Natasha realized, but the hand on that arm had rotted away, leaving nothing more than a stump. As they swam past, it turned towards them and for the first time she saw the eerie yellow glow in its eyes.

  They stopped cold.

  As did the zombie. It seemed confused at first, but then its stare turned into a predatory scowl. Teeth gnashed slowly in the water, as if it could taste them from five feet away. Then suddenly it exploded into a fury of movement. Its arms, legs - its entire body thrashed against the chains with such madness that both Metzger and Natasha found themselves backing away. So violent was its attempt to get at them that its left arm broke in two, allowing the second manacle to fall to the concrete floor. Then it tried to rush towards them, but was held back by the chains attached to its legs.

  Both Metzger and Natasha turned to flee, but found themselves face to face with another zombie. Natasha screamed, losing her breathing apparatus in a bubble cloud of terror.

  Metzger swam towards her, clamping his hand over her mouth to once again create a seal. But instead of cooperating, she fought against it.

  Natasha was caught in between lines of zombies, thrashing creatures on either side of them. The metal boxes on these zombies had blinking green lights rather than red ones. Their eyes were an unearthly yellow, radiating madness. And they were all going to break free and get her, they were going to eat her like they ate everyone else. Watching the line of zombies gnashing at the water, struggling violently to break free, she knew her fate resided in those teeth.

  Natasha shook her head as Metzger tried to get her mask back on. She reached out and pushed at his face, causing a stream of bubbles to explode from his mouthpiece as it, too, dislodged.

  Natasha could no longer breathe. The weight on her chest grew unbearable, and Natasha's vision began to blacken along the edges. She was going to die right here, right now, and become a zombie like the rest of them. Somewhere there was an umbilical cord ready to be shoved into her neck, manacles ready to be clasped around her limbs.

  Then she found herself shuttled upwards. When they finally breached the surface, it was into the teeth of the storm. The wind howled. Rain slashed at their faces. Waves slapped their heads with each passing moment.

  She inhaled deeply, half water, half air. She began to cough.

  Metzger grabbed her hand and began to pull her to shore. The zombie factory was to her left and Bombay Beach was to her right. Two tiny figures broke the uniform dullness of the beach: Veronica and Derrick, or were those zombies awaiting their dinner?

  She closed her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. Golden points of evil greeted her as zombies frolicked wickedly in her imagination.

  She knew she was whimpering, but she couldn't stop.

  She couldn't stop anything.

  Night slid in with the storm like a thief, stealing the light. Wind sang along the edges of the metal trailers, like a chorus of banshees. Rain raged against the outside of Grandpa Lazlo's double-wide, a million tiny beasts pounding to get inside. Natasha lay on the couch, tossing and turning, slipping in and out of consciousness.

  When Metzger had brought Natasha to shore, she was coughing water. Derrick had run to her, watching fearfully as Metzger turned her on her side and let her cough out what she'd breathed in.

  Now, with Veronica peering through the window as lookout, and Metzger cradling Natasha's head on his lap, Derrick knew what was coming. That he was the youngest of them all meant nothing. His experience came from living vicariously through others who'd survived and died on his behalf.

  From Borimir in The Fellowship of the Ring, to Jimmy Nightshade in Something Wicked This Way Comes, to Cory Mackenson evading the rendering truck in Zephyr, Alabama, to Ghost Rider chased across the land of the living by the legion of the dead, Derrick had vicariously survived good and bad plans, some created whole-cloth from the ether of necessity, some devised by careful consideration of all the facts. Even Encyclopedia Brown, as childish as the books now seemed, had taught him the need to analyze things, and understand that most often what seemed to be the obvious thing, no matter how outlandish it seemed, was what was going to happen. Derrick knew that no plan went unscathed, but he also knew that they did indeed need a plan.

  They would be attacked.

  Of that he had no doubt.

  There was no way that Natasha's and Metzger's undersea reconnaissance could have gone undetected. Hopkins had their number. They'd gotten away with everything so far because the man was willing to play within the rules. He could have put them all in one of his SUVs earlier and taken them away. Derrick had seen it in the man's eyes, and for a moment there in the trailer with Auntie Lin sitting naked on the trunk hiding Metzger, Derrick had thought that Hopkins was going to do just that. It was only a matter of time before soldiers or zombies were sent after them, and their only hope of surviving was to have some form of plan.

  So it was with this knowledge that Derrick leaned over his papers on the table, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he drew boxes and lines. Here and there he'd shake his head and erase something, only to draw it again.

  Next to some of the boxes, he made notations. He made "Xs" through some of the others. Although he'd been in Bombay Beach less than a week, it felt like an eternity. He'd run through - or fled through - almost every yard in the desiccated town already, and he'd remembered what Veronica had told them about who lived where and which places were empty.

  As his pen moved across the page, Derrick realized that he wasn't just drawing a map, he was drawing up battle lines.

  "Someone's coming," Veronica said.

  All eyes went to the girl holding the speargun, standing by the door.

  Metzger and Natasha put down their mugs of hot cocoa and stood up.

  Derrick grabbed his papers, took them to the kitchen, found a large Ziploc bag and shoved them inside. He grabbed another Ziploc for his grandfather's book.

  "I see flashing lights. Hey! It looks like Deputy Todrunner." Veronica turned and flashed a smile.

  "Do you think he's involved?" Natasha asked.

  "The Mad Scientist said that there were two others. One was Maude, but he didn't know who the remaining one was," Derrick reminded them.

  "Good point. Shit." Veronica eyed the spear gun in her hand with trepidation.

  Auntie Lin appeared in the hallway. She too wanted to know what was going on.

  Veronica shot a look back to the others in the room. "He parked outside. He's coming to the door. What should I do?"

  Metzger looked around. "Get in the bathroom with the speargun. If he does something crazy, it's up to you to save us.
"

  "What? Like leap out and shoot him with this?" She held up the speargun.

  "Just go. Hurry!"

  Veronica hesitated a moment more, then bolted for the bathroom.

  No sooner had she turned the corner than there came knocking at the door.

  Metzger went to the door and opened it.

  The deputy sheriff pushed in with rain and wind behind him. He pulled the door closed as quickly as he could, but it wasn't fast enough to keep the carpet from getting soaked. "Everyone alright in here?" He removed his baseball cap and slapped it against his leg a few times.

  Metzger noted that he had a pistol on his hip, a Ruger .357.

  Without waiting for an answer, Todrunner looked at Natasha and said, "I've had some calls. Things have been dead-on strange around here. Any word on your father?"

  Natasha shook her head. "I was hoping you had some information."

  The Deputy frowned. "Nothing here, I'm afraid."

  "So who'd you talk to who told you something strange was going on? Who was it who called?" Natasha asked.

  "It was Maude," the Deputy said.

  "What'd she say?" Metzger asked.

  "Something about monsters and a government conspiracy." The deputy frowned and shook his head. "It didn't make much sense, but she was crying on the phone, so I dropped everything down in Brawly and headed here through the storm and all the chaos to see what was happening."

  Derrick grabbed the phone and checked the dial tone. Nothing. "Phone's out, now."

  The deputy nodded. "Went out about a half hour ago. Power lines fell across the road about 5 miles south of here. Probably won't be until the storm blows over before it's fixed."

  "What do you make of Hopkins?" Derrick asked suddenly.

  "You mean Sam?" The deputy shrugged. "What do you mean?"

  "You heard me."

  "Now wait a minute." The deputy looked at the three people in the room. "What about Sam? What's really going on?"

  "Just answer the damned question," Metzger said.

  "He's just some guy doing his job."

  "No, really," Metzger added. "What do you really think of him? Do you really think he works for the Environmental Protection Agency?"

  The deputy took a long moment. Finally, he said, "I think that maybe he's a little too secretive for his own good."

  "Did Maude tell you that he came into this house with soldiers looking for Metzger?" Natasha asked. "Since when does the Environmental Protection Agency have soldiers working for them?"

  "They don't, as far as I know." He stared at Natasha, then to Auntie Lin. "Did he do that? Is that true?"

  Both Natasha and Auntie Lin nodded.

  "They saw me naked," Auntie Lin added.

  "And they saw her naked," Metzger repeated.

  The deputy nodded respectfully to Auntie Lin, then took a seat on the couch. "Aw, hell. You better tell me everything that's happened."

  "Everything?" Derrick asked dubiously.

  "Everything."

  Natasha began by telling him where they'd been. She described the concrete, the chains, the umbilicals and, most of all, the zombies. When they got to the part about the buses, Todrunner's eyes widened. Clearly he'd had no idea what was going on. By the time he learned about the hand kept by Dr. Gudgel, Veronica had come out of the bathroom, tired of waiting for something to happen. She'd left the speargun behind, which was probably a good thing.

  When they were finished with their stories, the deputy sat stock still for a few moments. Finally he stood, pulled out his radio and tried to contact his headquarters. He got nothing but static in reply.

  "Damn it all." He shook his head and cursed. "Okay, get something waterproof to wear. I'm getting you out of here. You need to be in protective custody until we can get some backup, someone in here to help me ask a few people some questions."

  Natasha looked from Metzger to Derrick. "Are you serious?" she asked.

  "Absolutely," he said.

  They were ready to go in moments. Metzger wore an old green windbreaker that had belonged to Natasha's grandfather.

  Just as they clambered out the door, the ground heaved beneath them and everything began to shake. The light beside the door cracked and broke. Everyone grabbed each other to keep from falling down; even the Sheriff's SUV seemed to rock in place.

  Then it was gone, as quickly as it came.

  Everyone glanced at each other, fear alive in their eyes.

  Soon all five of them were in the SUV, heading down the street toward the Space Station Restaurant. The rain had let up and reduced to a drizzle, but the wind continued to howl.

  Suddenly two white Suburbans roared in from side streets. One rammed into the back of the deputy's SUV, rocking it dangerously, the impact knocking people against the headrests and side windows. The second SUV came to a stop in front, blocking any escape.

  Deputy Todrunner was the first to move. He unlatched the shotgun from the central lock with one flick of his hand, then rolled out of his door and came to position behind it. He brought the gun to bear on the window of the Suburban in front of him and fired twice.

  Metzger bailed out of the door behind the driver. "Give me your pistol," he shouted.

  "Not on your life, kid," the deputy said, as his shotgun roared again, this time taking out a black-clad soldier who had appeared from the rear of the Suburban. The soldier fell in a heap, his rifle sliding free and clattering to the ground.

  Natasha screamed. Metzger turned and saw that a soldier was trying to pull her out of the other side of the SUV. Glass from a broken rear window was all over the seat. Veronica had a grip on Natasha's arm and was pulling her in the other direction.

  Deputy Todrunner jerked his pistol free and fired three times across the hood towards the soldier. The soldier fell to the ground, spraying crimson as he fell.

  Metzger dove for the automatic rifle the dead soldier had dropped, wrapped his hands around it and tried to bring it to bear, but found a boot holding it down and the barrel of a rifle pressing against the side of his head. He froze.

  Behind him, he heard the sound of shouting. When he was finally allowed to stand, he saw the deputy with his hands on his head, blood running from his mouth and nose. Derrick, Natasha, Auntie Lin and Veronica were being pulled from the backseat and made to stand beside the deputy. At least six black-clad soldiers guarded them, and Hopkins stood directly in front of the deputy, speaking into a headset.

  "Get them under control. You've got to lock this down." Then he turned to Metzger. "Destiny delayed. Don't worry son, soon you'll be with your friends."

  "These are my friends," Metzger growled, as the barrel of the gun pushed him into line with the others.

  "I meant the ones you traveled in with. The other junkies. We have a place for you, you know?"

  "I think I'll pass."

  Hopkins shrugged. "Like you ever had a choice."

  Deputy Todrunner spat out blood. "So what they told me about you is true."

  "They told you I'm a loyal patriot? They told you I'm working for the greater good, getting rid of some of our problems at the same time I'm advancing our space program?" Hopkins held out his arms. "They explained that I was a cultural multitasker, able to help the future while cleansing our past?" Hopkins regarded his prisoners melodramatically. "They shouldn't have. What a nice bunch of troublemakers they turned out to be."

  "No. That you're a murderer."

  "What words you use." Hopkins's eyes narrowed. "You're a yokel. You've no idea how high this goes, how important this project is."

  The deputy was about to answer when they heard a strange sound. It was a song Metzger had heard before, but never quite like he was hearing it now.

  The lyrics spoke of lonely streets and heartbreak hotels.

  The staccato sounds of automatic gunfire interrupted the accented Elvis dirge as three of the black-clad soldiers turned and fired, but there was nothing to fire at. Instead, they went down as shots came from everywhere, punching cri
mson-flecked holes in their bodies.

  "What the fuck?" Hopkins whirled around, only to witness seven heavily-armed locals leaving their hiding places and fanning towards them in a tightly-disciplined formation.

  Leading them was the Romanian ex-Freedom fighter, an AK_47 held in his hands like it was an old friend. He wore a black, bell-bottomed tuxedo with flared sleeves. With him were the Duvall Brothers, Jimbo Becker, Frank Gillespie, Reginald Johnson and Columbus Williams. Each of them carried a hunting rifle, which they pointed at each of the remaining soldiers.

  Metzger took advantage of the confusion and hurriedly grabbed a rifle from one of the dead soldiers; an M249 light machine gun. He'd carried one with him his entire last tour in Iraq.

  He locked and loaded, cradling the rifle like a lover. The sound reached Hopkins's ears. He turned and sneered. "You won't be getting very far with that."

  Metzger ignored them and waved for Veronica, Natasha, Auntie Lin and Derrick to follow him. He got them to the edge of a nearby trailer before all hell broke loose.

  Two more black-clad soldiers had been hiding in the rear of one of the Suburbans. They'd been able to slide around the back of the vehicle unseen and now opened fire on the Romanian Elvis and his rag-tag team of protectors. Metzger had escorted the others away in the nick of time, as a free-for-all broke out between the groups.

  It happened so quickly - Metzger saw the light go out of the Romanian Elvis's eyes just as he fired a round into Hopkins's unprotected leg.

  Hopkins shrieked in pain, from where he lay on the ground. He held out a pistol in a shaking grip until it was trained on Deputy Todrunner's forehead. Blood bubbles burst from the deputy's mouth, his breathing labored as his chest hitched. He was the worse-off of the two, but he wouldn't need to worry much longer. Hopkins pulled the trigger, his 9mm bullet slamming into the law official's brain and out the other side in a hideous spray of gore.

 

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