On the other side of the pond—or as golfers might call it, the water hazard—was a single zombie stumbling west across the green, probably looking for someone to eat. No worries. By the time we’d be passing by, he’d be long gone.
“Y’all about ready to get moving?” Ted asked.
Everyone answered by standing up. I grabbed my bowie knife out of the ground, stuck it back into the leather sheath connected to my belt, and then slung my bag back over my aching shoulders.
Peaches stood beside me, quiet and unusually stoic.
“You feeling okay?” I asked.
She looked over at me and nodded, but didn’t say a peep. I might not have been an expert on women. Hell, I was barely amateur status, despite having my first sexual encounter (like something you have with a lion on a safari—dangerous, yet exciting, and full of surprises) only a few nights ago. Still, I knew what that look meant. Roger that. Her silence came through loud and clear.
She wasn’t feeling okay.
She wasn’t ready to tell me why.
But she wasn’t feeling okay, and I knew it was my fault.
As we left the shade of the trees and wandered out into the bright sunny golf course, I tried to force the thought from my mind. I needed to stay focused, clear-headed, lest I become zombie food.
No matter, the feeling stuck with me like bad acne on a teenager.
Peaches was upset.
And baby Olivia was the reason.
Chapter 86
“Any of y’all ever been golfing before?” Ted asked, as he led us up the center of the green, over small hills and past the occasional sand trap.
“A few times,” Robinson replied. “Went with some guys from work. Didn’t do so well.”
“Yeah, me too,” Ted said. “Not really my thing. Much prefer the gun range.”
I had never been golfing. I figured the same was true for the others in the group, given their unwillingness to answer the question. The thought of Aamod golfing brought a momentary smile to my face. My gut told me sports weren’t something Aamod found appealing, golf especially. It was a gentlemen’s game. It was supposed to be relaxing. I could see him getting angry and throwing his putter like Happy Gilmore.
We no longer kept to a single file line. Out on the open green of the Audubon Golf Course, the threat seemed minimal. If there were any infected around, they’d likely spot us, with only the occasional tree to hide under. But we’d also see any threat coming slow and unsteady from a hundred yards away, giving us plenty of time to react (run for our lives), and even Robinson could outrun a zombie.
I’d done my homework. I knew the rules. When dealing with zombies you must always try to avoid being trapped, cornered, surrounded. One at a time, they could be easily dispatched. In large numbers, however, they could quickly overwhelm you if you weren’t careful, especially in tight areas, like inside buildings or alleyways. Always have an escape route, and be willing to adjust at a moment’s notice. And for the love of God, don’t be distracted by the emotional ups and downs of a pretty woman with blue eyes and big breasts.
Keep your cool.
Don’t ask her.
Let it go.
Pay attention.
Stay focused.
Don’t ask her.
She’ll tell you when she’s ready.
Keep your cool.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I whispered to Peaches.
Way to keep your cool.
I wanted to punch myself in the face.
“It doesn’t matter,” Peaches said, and sighed loudly, indicating my nagging was starting to bother her. “Just stop.”
“It matters to me.”
I waited, but she had nothing further to say on the subject. She shut off and ignored my desperate stares—my pathetic pleas for answers. She should have punched me in the face.
Ted, not briefed on my woman problems, kept up the friendly chit-chat—the question and answer session.
He wanted to know everyone’s favorite movie.
Favorite sport.
Favorite food.
Favorite Johnny Cash song.
I kept to myself, much like Peaches, and let the others play along.
Once we reached the clubhouse, the chatter came to a screeching halt.
We stayed to the east of the large pond and quietly passed by the building. Not quiet enough, however, as the two zombies Ted had spotted earlier under the tree line suddenly appeared from around the back of the building and began shambling after us. For a moment, we all sort of stopped and stared at Ted, looking for guidance. Naima, unarmed and quick of foot, ran to the front of the line, furthest away from the approaching dead.
“Should we keep going and ignore them?” Robinson asked.
I had my bowie knife out and ready. Sally was on my hip, if needed.
“Better take them down now,” Ted replied. “But quietly.”
Quietly.
That meant with the knives.
“Everyone branch out,” Ted said. “Draw their attention away. Let’s give ‘em some space.”
The two zombies, one male, one female, teetered on their feet trying to follow us as we made a wide circle around them. Given their advanced state of decomposition, and their desire to make us their breakfast, it was easy to forget that these two decaying monsters before us were once human beings. Not so long ago they breathed the same air as we did. They loved people and had people who loved them. Maybe they were even a married couple, or engaged to be married, or had only just begun to get to know each other before everything changed. These thoughts didn’t make killing them any easier, that’s for sure, but if killing them would bring them peace, allow them to finally move on to some other world, or at least be spared of this undead existence, then I would do what I had to do.
This time, I didn’t have to do anything. Ted was already on it like a fly on poop.
The female, with hair long and dark and matted with blood, lurched, arms extended, toward Aamod.
“Dad, watch out!” Naima cried out, hiding behind her father.
The Indian man, not appearing the slightest bit concerned, raised his shotgun with glowing delight in his eyes.
“No!” Ted shouted.
Aamod lowered the shotgun and took a few steps back. The female wobbled toward him, her jaw open abnormally wide, moans escaping from her throat.
Just as Aamod started to raise the shotgun back up, Ted slipped behind the female and jabbed his bowie knife through the back of her skull. The sharp pointed end made a second hole in her forehead. After Ted reclaimed his knife, the female collapsed face first to the green grass. Her male friend, tall and skinny, wearing tattered jeans and a flannel button-up shirt covered in dark red bloodstains, wanted to take a bite out of crime and went straight for Bowser.
Ted spun around to go for his second stealth attack, but Bowser had this one covered. The burly black man side-stepped away from the infected man’s reaching claw-like hands, and with gruesome power, buried his knife up though the zombie’s jaw. It was an uppercut from hell. Bowser pulled the knife out with the same powerful force he had put it in. The zombie hit the ground a second later and lay there unmoving in a sad heap.
The entire group took a collective sigh of relief. We all looked around, making sure there were no other infected coming our way, having heard our little scuffle.
“Don’t see any others,” Robinson said. “Looks like that was it.”
“Yeah,” Ted agreed.
I expected to see more undead souls lurking about in the shadow of the clubhouse, but there was only the two, and once they were put to sleep, all was quiet again. Peaceful. The park grounds surrounding the course were clean and empty.
“Aamod, you remember what I said?” Ted asked.
“What?”
“You have to trust me. Trust all of us,” Ted said. “I know that’s not easy for you. But we’re trying to go as unnoticed as possible, and that shotgun of yours could get us all killed.”
; Aamod scowled. “This shotgun saved your life, if I remember correctly.”
He had a point there. His shotgun had taken down the biggest threat we’d faced thus far.
Charlie.
“There was only two of them,” Ted said. “We come upon a large crowd...you have my permission to do your thing.”
“I don’t need your permission,” Aamod fired back.
“You know what he means,” Robinson interjected. “We’re trying to blend in. One blast from that shotgun and you’re gonna draw them out. You’re gonna draw them to us.”
“We’re not moving fast enough. This will take all day.”
“If we could get to Dixon by car we would. But we can’t,” Robinson replied. “The roads are clogged. We’re in a big city now. It’s only gonna get worse the farther in we get.”
“I think we’ve barely scratched the surface,” Bowser said. “These right here are nothing.” He pointed at the two recently quieted dead in the center of the circle.
“Here’s an idea,” Peaches said. “Why don’t we stop arguing and start moving?”
Leave it to Peaches to kick our asses into gear.
“You all stay here. I’ll be right back,” Ted said, and wandered off toward the clubhouse. A moment later, he disappeared around the side of the building, out of sight.
“What’s he up to?” Bowser asked.
No one answered. We had no clue. We always seemed about two steps behind Ted, stumbling along pitifully in his shadow trying to keep up. He’d probably played out scenarios like these a million times in his head. I swear this new world was tailor-made for him.
Robinson paced around nervously, unconvinced of Ted’s apocalyptic skills. “I’m gonna go check on him.”
“But he said to wait here,” I replied.
“Yeah, he also said he’d be right back. It’s been a few minutes. Why don’t you come with me, Jimmy? Let’s go check it out.”
“Sure, I guess.” I looked back at Peaches as I walked away with Robinson. She stared at the ground, lost in space.
“Get your gun ready,” Robinson whispered, pulling his nine-millimeter out.
Shit yeah! Time to get into character. It was deputy time.
I carefully removed Sally from her holster, making sure not to put my finger on the trigger. I flipped the safety off and pointed the gun down in front of me. We walked slow and light-footed, took a wide bend around the building in case something (most likely dead and dangerous) was waiting for us around the corner.
Nothing.
A second larger building was around the bend, but no sign of Ted. We continued forward. A line of golf carts, maybe a dozen in total, were lined up nicely against the building to our right.
Robinson stopped. “Hmm,” he mumbled. “I wonder…”
Suddenly a door swung open right beside us, scaring the crap out of me and Robinson.
We both raised our guns.
Ted stepped out, lucky we didn’t fill him with a belly full of lead. He jumped back, surprised to see us standing outside the door. “Son of a bitch. You guy’s scared me.”
“Likewise,” I said, and lowered Sally.
“What were you doing in there?” Robinson asked.
Ted held up a bunch of keys with white key tags attached to them. “Getting these.”
A sly smile bloomed on Robinson’s face. “Are those what I think they are?”
“Keys to the golf carts,” Ted replied.
“Hell yeah,” I said.
“Maybe these will help us make better time,” Ted said. “They’re electric too, so they should be relatively quiet, assuming nobody flips one trying to take a corner too fast.”
That brought a big smile to my face.
Robbie.
Road rash.
Robinson.
He drove like a cop, because he was one. Yes, yes, yes. My prayers had been answered. There were few things I wanted more (maybe another hummer from Peaches) than to see Robinson drive a golf cart, so as long as I didn’t have to ride in the seat next to him.
“Brilliant idea,” Robinson said.
I nodded. “The absolute best.”
“I know,” Ted said, grinning like a kid in a grown man’s body. “Fuckin’ A.”
Chapter 87
We rounded the corner and waved the rest of the group over.
“Sup?” Bowser said, limping up.
“We’re gonna take these golf carts,” Robinson replied. “Ted found the keys.”
“For real?”
Robinson nodded. “Be good to give your bum leg some rest, huh?”
Aamod passed us by to go inspect our new rides. He looked like he’d never seen one before. They were a lot different from his old Toyota, though if he objected to taking the electric carts, he certainly would have said something. Aamod wasn’t one to keep his feelings all bottled up inside.
Speaking of keeping feelings all bottled up inside…
I nestled up next to Peaches. The pouty look on her face had cleared a bit.
“Are you gonna ride with me?” she asked.
“Ride with you? You don’t want me to—”
“I want to drive,” she said. “Is that okay?”
Nooooooooo, it’s not okay, I wanted to say. I’m driving.
Instead, I said, “I guess.”
“It’s just...what if something comes up on us? You’re a much better shot than me.”
I wasn’t a very good shot, actually, but I appreciated her attempt at sucking up. Better than the silent treatment. I was slowly starting to realize how good women were at getting their way, though the thought of blasting zombies from the passenger seat of a golf cart did have a certain appeal to it.
“Maybe we could take turns?”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll even let you drive first.”
Catch that? She’d let me drive first. She had me wrapped up like a Christmas present with a cute little pink bow on top. And what would I do about it? Not a damn thing. The power of the pussy is a real thing, folks, and I hadn’t really even gotten any yet. Just touched.
Ted counted heads and then started passing out keys. “Check the number on the key tag and match it with the correct cart. Hopefully they have enough charge left.”
There were seven of us. Naima would ride with her dad. Bowser with Robinson. Peaches with me. And out in front, Ted would ride solo leading the way in his own cart.
As Bowser climbed into the passenger seat of cart number six, I wished him good luck. He gave me a distrustful stare, confused as to why I would say that to him. He’d need all the good luck he could get with Robinson hauling him around.
The number on my key tag was lucky number thirteen. I found my cart, put my bag in the holding area where people would normally store their clubs, and then got into the driver’s seat. Peaches put her bag in the back beside mine.
“Come on,” I said. “Get out of my dreams and get into my cart.”
Peaches squeezed in next to me. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I slipped the key into the ignition. “How could you tell?”
Everyone was in their carts now. From the front of the line Ted said, “Check your battery levels.”
The battery indicator on number thirteen had all the bars full.
“Everyone good to go?”
“Looks good,” Robinson replied.
“How far can one of these things go on a charge?” Aamod asked.
“No idea,” Ted said, starting us off. “Guess we’ll see.”
I figured out quickly that you didn’t have to press down hard on the accelerator to get moving. The little white cart had some pep to it, and was deceptively quiet. As we rode farther down the course, I also realized why we had seen so few infected. The golf course hugged a lagoon that ran along the far east side, and water was not a friend to the dead. They knew to avoid it. Ted’s idea to take the golf course north had been a smart one. Safe and easy. And driving a golf cart was more fun than it had any right to be.<
br />
After passing a second smaller pond in the center, we cut west through some trees and merged onto a paved park trail. Ted motioned for us to stop when we reached a circular courtyard area at the end of the golf course. I pulled my cart up next to him and hit the brakes.
“Gotta check the map,” Ted said.
Peaches nudged me. “Can I drive now?”
“What? Why? I’ve only been driving for a couple of minutes.”
“It’s not a competition, Jimmy.”
“I know that.”
She gazed at me with agitated eyes. “Look at the road up ahead.”
Dozens of zombies passed us by on the street directly north of the courtyard. Their presence was most likely why Ted wanted to check the map. Bad idea to just plow forward without thought and wind up trapped down a “dead” end. The electric carts batteries wouldn’t last forever. The less backtracking the better.
“We’ll be okay,” I said, turning my attention back to Peaches and her cold stare. “You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust me. I think we can both drive a stupid golf cart…but you’re better at shooting guns than me.”
“Hey, don’t call my golf cart stupid, and I’m not really that accurate with my gun yet. I’m getting better, sure, but you act like I’m Ted or something. He’s got years of experience on me, and a larger gun.”
Nearby, Robinson and Bowser were engaged in a similar conversation, only with more cursing and less sexual innuendo.
“My leg is fine,” Bowser said. “Don’t worry about it. I can press on a damn peddle. And I can certainly steer this ride better than you.”
“The fuck you can. You keep saying not to worry about you. But I saw you struggling. You gonna tell me that was your pimp limp.”
“Nigga, what about your shoulder? The bullet just grazed my knee.”
“My shoulder is fine,” Robinson replied matter-of-factly.
“Right, right. That’s why you’re still wearing that sling, huh…cause everything aight?”
Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord Page 3