His Name Was Zach

by Peter Martuneac

  “Abby. I’m so glad you’re here,” Henry said as he put his hand over the wound in his side. It hurt like hell but it wasn’t too serious.

  “Bug, run!” Zach said, but Abby didn’t move. She was paralyzed with fear, like a small bird staring into the empty eyes of a cobra.

  Henry took a step forward and said, “Why don’t you put that knife down, hm? You might hurt yourself.”

  Abby shook her head as if snapping out of a trance and then backed up slowly, her eyes never leaving Henry as she still held her knife in front of her, her arm trembling noticeably.

  “Just go!” Zach said.

  “That’s right, Abby. Run away while you can,” Henry said, mocking her. He knew that there was nowhere for Abby to go. He’d come after her as soon as she left. Chasing her down would make forcing himself on her much more exciting for him and much, much more terrifying for her, he thought.

  Abby was at the door now and she could feel the rain falling at her back. She looked at Zach and saw his dark eyes begging her to just leave him to his fate and save herself. She wanted to. She couldn’t beat Henry in a fight, of that she was certain. He wouldn’t kill her though, as that would be merciful. He would keep her as his captive, hurting her and abusing her until she either killed herself or just went to sleep one day and never woke up. Zach understood this. He would not think any less of Abby for leaving him to his fate. In fact, he would probably be happy if she did. She needed to run away now!

  But something kept Abby rooted in place. She couldn’t take her eyes off of her father. There was no hope of escape for him unless Abby could kill Henry. He had put his own life on the line for Abby countless times before, so how could Abby not do the same? How could she abandon him when he had never abandoned her? Abby’s cheeks flushed with shame that she could even entertain the idea of leaving him.

  This ended here. Henry died tonight.

  Abby’s expression changed from panicky fear to steely resolve as she narrowed her silver eyes, now as dark grey as evening storm clouds. She turned around and pushed the door closed and then threw the bolt, locking herself in. She turned back around and said, “You know what, Henry? You were right: we do have unfinished business.”

  “Abby, no,” Zach whimpered, fearing for her life.

  Abby stepped into the middle of the room and pulled her pistol out of her waistband. She released the mag, racked the slide back to eject the round in the chamber, and then tossed these things aside, now holding only her knife.

  Henry grinned as he did the same with his pistol (Zach’s pistol actually; he had stolen it when Zach was unconscious) and said, “I like the way you think, Abby. You’ve got balls, but I’ll break you in.”

  “I’m right here.”

  The two of them moved in a tight, clock-wise circle around the middle of the open space in the barn, both eyeing each other and trying to find any weaknesses. Henry was a mountain of a man, far too big and strong for Abby to block his attacks, but he was unskilled, slow, predictable, and already hurt. He was favoring the side in which Abby had already stabbed him, and she took note of this. Abby would have to rely on her small size, her dexterity, and her vastly superior skills to win.

  Finally, Henry made a lunge at Abby, but the pain from his wound flared up in this movement, making it slow. She sidestepped this and sliced at his arm, but missed. Henry came back around with his knife, but Abby ducked and slashed at his leg; he pulled it back just in time. He made another slash, from high to low, but Abby rolled forward past his left side, cutting his leg as she turned back to face him. Henry grunted but was able to ignore the pain from the cut just above his knee.

  Angry from having been cut, Henry made another huge horizontal slash at Abby, and she dodged this with amazing deftness. Being a flexible dancer, she bent backwards at the waist, low enough so that her ponytail brushed against the floor, and cut upwards with her knife, scoring a hit on the soft inside of Henry’s forearm as she rose back up.

  Henry dropped his knife in pain but, quick as a snake, his left hand caught it in mid-air and he made a reverse slash at Abby. The strength behind this blow would have practically cut her in half at the waist had she not jumped back in time, but she was just a little too slow, and the tip of the knife still caught her skin, leaving a long but shallow cut all the way along her stomach, just above her belly button.

  Abby yelped and stepped aside quickly to get some space. She gingerly touched her stomach and felt blood slowly ooze from her wound. It stung but it didn’t hurt too much. This respite only lasted for a moment however, for Henry was already back on the offensive, hoping to utilize the advantage that he thought he now had. He thought that he was fast, but Abby was faster, had better footwork, and was much more skilled than Henry.

  She avoided every slash and stab Henry made while consistently hitting him on the arms, legs, and torso. Abby had been blessed at birth with unreal reflexes, and using them now it seemed like she was reacting to Henry’s attacks before he even began to move. Enraged, Henry finally made a vicious lunge at Abby. She stepped aside, easily avoiding the telegraphed strike, and Henry’s knife planted itself into the wooden wall behind her and stuck there for a moment; Abby quickly took advantage of this opportunity. She lifted her knife above her head then brought it down with both hands, burying it almost up to the hilt in Henry’s forearm. He cried out in pain, but before Abby could pull her knife free, Henry wrenched his arm away, taking her knife with him. He ripped it out quickly with his left hand and there was murder in his eyes as he glared at Abby.

  Abby tried to grab Henry’s knife, still stuck in the wall, but he kicked her hard, his boot making contact with her fresh wound and sending a sharp jolt of pain through her body. She hit the ground and tried to get up, but Henry shoved her down and crouched over her, ready to end the fight.

  Abby grabbed a fistful of dirt and straw and threw it up into Henry’s eyes. He turned his head instinctively and Abby kicked her leg up and hit him in the crotch. He howled in pain as he stumbled backwards and dropped his knife. Abby rolled away and quickly got to her feet, wrapping her left arm around her stomach in an effort to alleviate the pain there. Henry also got up, his eyes red with tears from the blow to his groin.

  Both of them stood across from each other, breathing heavily for a few moments as they stared each other down like two street dogs in a fight. Both of them were well bloodied and hurting. Abby had a large bruise on her stomach from where Henry had kicked her, as well as a long laceration. But she was not going to back down, not ever. She would sooner die than give up on Zach. A strange maelstrom of love for Zach, hatred for Henry, and repressed but still present fear burned in her beautiful eyes, giving her a pitiable but heroic visage. She looked like a young Athena, the grey-eyed warrior-goddess of wisdom, in all her splendor and might. Like a storm on the horizon, she was harmless if unprovoked but fatal to confront.

  And if Abby was the incarnation of Pallas Athena, then Henry would have been indistinguishable from the bloody and brutal brother of the goddess: Ares. Malevolence and pure evil fueled the fires in his black eyes, dark as the pits of Tartarus. He had not expected Abby to put up such a fight, and this was incensing him to the point of madness. Never before had his lustful desire been so easily thwarted. That one girl had almost gotten him imprisoned when she testified in court, but none of the others had even spoken up against him, so afraid were they. But Abby was different from all the others. She just would not give in. Henry silently vowed to make his first time with her especially painful. All he had to do was finish this fight.

  Abby suddenly made a dash for the dropped knife in between the two of them. Henry charged forward too, but he was not going for the knife.

  He grabbed Abby by her ponytail before she could reach the knife and she screamed as he yanked her up off the ground and threw her against the wall. Her body slammed into the hard wood and dropped to the ground as waves of pain washed over her. Henry grabbed the collar of her shirt, lifted her up, and punche
d her hard in the stomach, and then bounced her head off of the table.

  Abby hit the ground and laid there on her stomach, groaning. Henry kicked her in her exposed side with his massive foot, and she cried out in pain as the force of the blow rolled her onto her side. But she saw Henry lift his foot up over her head, so she quickly covered up, protecting her head. Henry stomped down on her anyway, hurting her arm and shoulder badly. He did this again, and then again and again and again, hurting Abby badly but not knocking her out like he wanted to.

  Finally Henry stopped. He stood over Abby, smiling down at her triumphantly and listening to her quiet sobs and moans of pain. He bent down to roll her onto her back and then wrapped his huge left hand around her throat; she did not have the energy to resist even this. He lifted her up like a grocery bag, holding her a foot or two off the ground with only one hand and then squeezed hard. Abby’s eyes snapped open wide at the sudden choking sensation. She tried to breathe in, but it got stuck in her throat like a lump of dough.

  Watching all of this with tears in his eyes was Zach. He had been pleading with Henry to stop, but his cries fell on deaf ears. He worked furiously at his cuffs, trying to free himself so he could save Abby, but they weren’t going to snap as easily as duct tape. He looked over at Ross, but his friend was still out cold.

  Abby felt like her head would explode from the build-up of pressure. She punched and kicked at Henry, but he was not even fazed. She tried to pry his fingers away from her throat, but they were like iron vices crushing her windpipe. Her vision was becoming blurry as tears stung her eyes and her lungs were aching. Henry smiled and taunted her, “I can’t wait to take you, Abby. You won’t believe how painful I can make it. You should save me the effort and just pull your little panties down yourself!”

  Something suddenly occurred to Abby! She slid her hand into her pants and felt her boot knife still clipped to her underwear! She had concealed it so well that she had forgotten about it! She pulled the knife free and buried the tiny blade into Henry’s hand, just below the first knuckle of his thumb.

  He yelled out in pain and instinctively dropped Abby. She rolled away as soon as her feet hit the ground, coughing violently as she sucked in air. She stumbled towards her knife and scooped it up with both hands. Henry pulled her boot knife out of his hand and hurled it against the wall with an angry grunt, and then he lunged at her, growling like a bear. Twirling around on her knee, Abby thrust her knife forward. Henry had been so close that he didn’t even see the knife in Abby’s hands. The blade sliced into Henry’s abdomen, penetrating all the way up to the hilt. He grunted in surprised pain and looked down at the bloody wound.

  As Abby stared up into Henry’s eyes, now wide with the fear of death, she suddenly felt a different type of rage come over her, something dark and twisted. She had never felt this way before, and part of her liked it. She yanked the knife free and then stabbed Henry again. Weakly he tried to grab her but Abby stepped aside and stabbed Henry yet again, and then again, and several more times, pushing him backwards with her free hand with each strike.

  Henry eventually fell to his knees but Abby continued her onslaught. With her left hand she held his head up by his hair so that she could watch the pain in his face intensify with each strike. Bloodlust had taken over her, and she lost count of how many times she cut and stabbed him. All she knew was that she wanted to hurt Henry badly for all the horrible things he had done to her and Zach. And so she kept on hacking and stabbing and cutting at his face, arms, and chest as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  She finally stopped after taking all her anger, frustration, and sorrow out on Henry and then stepped back to look at him. He was still on his knees, arms limp at his sides, looking at Abby incredulously as his shoulders heaved with each deep and shuddering breath. He had lost a lot of blood and his skin was ghostly white. Abby sniffed and softly pushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

  “I’ve never killed a man before,” Abby said in a quiet but strong voice, recalling Henry’s words to her when she was tied up in his garage, “so I guess this is a ‘first time’ experience for both of us.” She then made a right-hook with her knife, burying the blade into the side of Henry’s neck.

  He made a gurgling sound and then fell onto his side. He rolled over to his back, still alive, his hand twitching as he made futile attempts to grab the knife from his neck. His eyes filled up with tears as his life seeped from them, leaving this once indomitable man utterly powerless. A sudden fit of terror seized on Henry as the fear of what lay beyond death took hold, and he gasped loudly with what breath he had left, already imagining an all-consuming, eternal fire to be his fate.

  Abby stood over Henry so that she would be the last thing he saw in this world. She stared down into his dark eyes, usually hot with malice and wickedness but now they were glossed over with fear. She felt nothing but absolute hatred for the man beneath her, and with her foot she kicked the knife even deeper into his neck. And then Henry died.

  ***

  Edmund was ready to enact his plan and sow some chaos. His men had quietly dispatched the guards at the zombie cages, Henry’s men, and hidden the bodies. Then they secured small chunks of C4 given to them by Edmund to the locks on the zombie cages. The explosion should only be enough to blow the locks off without killing the zombies inside, but this was hardly a precise science.

  His men were standing by to head for the garage, steal three of the troop transports, and escape in the confusion. Henry would be dead by now, Edmund was sure of it. The dream he had had two nights ago confirmed that Abby would kill him. He had dreamed that he was trying to walk down a road, but a colossal mountain stood in his way. There was no way around it or over it, so he became very angry. Reaching into his pockets for a weapon, his hand closed over a small silver coin. Having nothing else, he hurled this at the mountain. As the coin struck it, the mountain shattered into countless blazing pieces, and the sky turned red and fire sprung up all around Edmund, and then he awoke.

  With Henry dead, Edmund would tell the Boss that he had overheard Henry talk about unleashing the zombies to take control of the Red Army. He had been too late to stop him, but he still was able to kill him. That is, that’s what he would say if the Boss survived the night.

  Any way you looked at it, Abby’s coming was a fortuitous boon for Edmund. In no time at all, he would either be much higher up in the Red Army, or would have singular control over it; either option suited him. He was in his tent right now with all of his things packed and ready to go.

  “And on the seventh day,” Edmund said as he held the clacker above his head, “God rested. And while He rested, Edmund created…chaos.” And then he pressed the lever.

  Chapter Twenty

  Abby stood as still as a stone. Like the story of Saint George and the dragon, she had single-handedly, and against all odds, slain an unspeakable horror. She wrenched her knife out of Henry’s neck, wiped it clean on his pants, and then sheathed it on her belt. She next pulled a bandana out of his pocket and used it to wipe the blood off of her hands and forearms, her hands trembling badly all the while. Searching Henry’s pockets, she found a tiny handcuff key which she used to free Zach, but he didn’t move at first. He only stared up at Abby with no small amount of wonder.

  Abby’s lower lip was quivering, she balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking, and her legs felt weak. Her eyes were moist as she fought to hold back tears. Her body was racked with pain and she had several bruises on her head, arms, and stomach. The massive adrenaline rush she’d been experiencing during her fight had worn off, and now all of her fear, disgust, pain, and sadness came rushing back all at once.

  Suddenly she fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands as she wept quietly. Zach wrapped his arms around her and held her tight and she leaned gratefully into his embrace. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” he whispered as he gently rocked her from side to side.

  “I feel sick, Zach,” Abby said in a small, fri
ghtened voice, once again sounding like a frightened young girl and not the bold heroine she had been mere moments ago.

  “I know, that’s okay. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

  “You were right, though. He needed to die.”

  “Who’s to say anyone was right? I told you that you did a good thing back there at the farm,” Zach said, trying to reassure her. He put his hands on her trembling shoulders, looked her in the eye, and then said, “Don’t ever get used to killing people, Abby. It should always make you sick. Never change who you are, because the young woman that you are is a wonderful person.”

  “Okay,” Abby replied.

  “Come on,” Zach said, standing up, “let’s get Ross and get out of here.” He took the key from Abby as she went to retrieve her boot knife from where Henry had flung it. She also picked up hers and Zach’s pistols, reloaded them both, and then carried them over to Zach and Ross.

  Zach had undid Ross’ cuffs, but he still wasn’t moving. “Ross, wake up. Ross!” he said, shaking him by the shoulders.

  “I’m not asleep, jackass,” Ross muttered.

  “What, you mean you were awake this whole time?” Zach asked, and Ross nodded his head. “Well, let’s go then! Come on, what’s the matter with you?”

  “Zach, Edmund killed Diane,” Abby whispered.

  Zach looked at Abby and said, “What? She’s…and you saw Edmund? How do you know it was him?”

  “Because I talked to him. I was his prisoner but he let me go.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, but we’ll talk about it later,” Abby replied. She turned to Ross and said, “Ross, come on! We have to leave!”

  “What’s the point?” he mumbled.

  “Are you just going to sit here and die?” Abby asked.