Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord

by Brown, Richard

  I ran down the hall as the real answer suddenly came to me. The zombie got in the bathroom because when it entered it wasn’t dead yet.

  I frantically knocked on Aamod’s door, called out his name, but he wouldn’t answer. If anyone should take care of this, it should be him. It was his daughter in there, after all. Naima had swallowed zombie blood and had been sick all day. It took hours for the infection to sink in, but on her last trip to the bathroom, it finally took her. Turned her. She probably realized she was dying and didn’t want to wake up next to her father as one of those things. She saved him and now he’d have to fix her. Set her free.

  “What are you doing?” a female voiced asked.

  I glanced down the hall at Peaches standing outside our room. “Hurry, help me wake Aamod.”

  “Okay,” she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Let me use the bathroom first.”

  “No!” I yelled.

  But I was too late.

  Peaches had already opened the bathroom door. A high-pitched squeal rang out of her throat as a dead Naima grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her backward. The two of them disappeared into the open bedroom.

  Sally in hand, I ran back down the hall and into the bedroom. Peaches lay on her back on the floor in the center of the room, trying to push Naima off her.

  “Help! Help!” she yelled.

  I reached down and grabbed Naima by the back of her shirt, tried to pull her off. Naima spun around and attempted to bite me, her breath smelling like rotting teeth.

  In short time, the beautiful Indian girl had transformed into a monster version of her former self. Hardly recognizable anymore, the once smooth olive-colored skin of her face had become marked with bloody streaks where ribbons of flesh began to peel away. Her big brown eyes had turned a dark gray and leaked a thick white pus from the corners. Behind her snarling mouth, her perfectly shaped teeth began to shift around, stained red by her bleeding gums, ruining her innocent smile.

  Peaches continued to scream as I tried again to get Naima off her, unsuccessfully. She had both hands around Naima’s neck, keeping her at arm’s length while trying to scoot out the side.

  Wishing I had my knife instead, I smacked Naima on the back of the head with my gun. A small crack appeared on her soft skull beneath her black hair but she didn’t stop the assault. I hit her two more times in the same spot, each time producing a sound like an egg being split open. After the third hit, Naima finally fell to the side, disoriented but not yet silenced. Peaches used the brief respite to try and slide out from under her. Naima raised her head, her mouth still snapping open and closed, and grabbed hold of Peaches by her left ankle, preventing her from squirming away.

  “Shoot her, Jimmy!” Peaches yelled.

  With all the noise we were making, I was amazed no one else had woken up to come help.

  No better option left, I pointed Sally at Naima’s head, took careful aim so that Peaches wouldn’t be hit by the exiting bullet, and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  Nothing happened.

  I pulled the trigger a second and third time.

  Click.

  Click.

  Never before had Sally ever jammed on me, and now was certainly not the time to start. I checked the magazine and was shocked to find there wasn’t a single bullet loaded.

  “What the hell,” I said. “It’s empty.”

  “Jimmy! Please!”

  I went at the back of Naima’s skull again with the butt of the gun while Peaches cried out in agony. Finally, after a few more hits, Naima went limp. Peaches slithered up against the bed as I dragged Naima to the other side of the room. When I was done, I looked down at Sally in my hand. The gun was covered in blood and pinkish-white brain matter.

  Yum.

  I noticed Peaches clutching at her ankle with both hands, grimacing in pain.

  “No…” I gasped, dropping Sally to the hardwood floor, and rushing down beside Peaches. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Let me see.”

  Peaches slowly removed her trembling hands, exposing the bloody bite marks on her ankle.

  “No,” I whimpered, cupping my head in my hands, realizing I had failed her.

  My fast-beating heart felt like it came to a sudden stop as I fell backward, body shaking, lungs struggling to take in air. I removed my hands from my face and stared upward at the ceiling, my mind fading in and out of consciousness.

  As my vision went blurry, Peaches began to cry, uttering the same two words over and over again between her sobs.

  “You promised.”

  Because I couldn’t lie to her.

  Chapter 104

  I woke covered in sweat, still feeling like I was trapped underwater. I caught my breath, felt my heart relax. I stared up at the ceiling. The ceiling stared down at me. The room was humid and dark, lit only by the dim moonlight shining in through the open window.

  I lay on the bed, sheets bundled underneath me, wearing nothing but my striped boxer shorts. Next to me, lying on her side facing the wall, was Peaches. Sleeping. The only sound in the room was her breathing.

  She was alive.

  Oh, thank God. It was all just a nightmare.

  I sat up, wiped the sweat from my face, and swung my legs off the bed. Crumpled up on the floor beside the bed were my pants, right where I’d left them. Still attached to the belt, my knife and gun. Also right where I’d left them.

  I flexed open my eyes and shook the cobwebs out of my head. Yawning, I picked up my wristwatch from the nightstand. It took me a second to catch the light at the right angle in order to read the time.

  11:26 p.m.

  My guard shift had ended at nine, and then I’d stayed for ten minutes longer listening to the worst thing Robinson had ever seen as a police officer. After that, I’d talked with Peaches for another twenty minutes. All this to say I couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour and a half. My eyes felt tired but my mind was wide awake. No way was I going to get back asleep right away. First thing I needed to do was cure the cottonmouth I’d woke with.

  Quietly I put my pants on and went downstairs to get something to drink. I passed by Bowser sleeping on the couch near the front window and headed toward the kitchen, surprised to find Naima sitting at the dining room table looking into the candlelight. She glanced over at me as I approached, equally surprised to see me, perhaps because I had no shirt on. My bird chest was out in all its glory, though I felt less self-conscious about it than usual. I was sort of a taken man now, after all.

  “Hey,” Naima said softly.

  “Hey,” I said back. “What are you still doing up?”

  She shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  Naima was as beautiful as ever, even with the extra layer of dirt and stink we all carried around. Yet, as I looked her over, it was hard not to see the girl from my dream. Zombie girl. The one with the broken skin and the crooked teeth. The one whose skull I’d bashed open with the butt of my gun. I thought it best to keep the dream to myself.

  “Just came down to get some water,” I said, grabbing a bottle of water from the pantry. I twisted the cap open and poured half the contents down my throat, instantly curing my dry mouth. “Mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

  “No, I don’t mind,” she replied.

  I sat down in the chair next to her and set my bottle of water down in front of me. “Just gotta be quiet. Don’t want to wake the sleeping giant.”

  She smiled. “We can whisper.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I guess Ted is outside on watch?”

  She nodded. “Until midnight. Then it’s my dad’s turn. I’ll probably try to go back to sleep once he gets down here.”

  “Trouble sleeping in the bed with him?”

  “No, he doesn’t snore or anything like that. I just…I don’t know…couldn’t get to sleep. I laid there for a while trying, but I guess I just have too much on my mind. What’s your excuse?”

  I had a nightm
are where you turned into a zombie and bit Peaches and now I’m not tired.

  “The same,” I said. “Body is tired but head isn’t ready. How have you been feeling anyway? Better?”

  “I stopped throwing up, if that’s what you mean. My stomach feels fine now. I think I just needed to get some real food in there. Dinner helped a lot.”

  “What about a headache? Fever?”

  She shook her head. “I might’ve had a small fever earlier in the day, but like I said, I feel fine now.”

  “That’s good. We were all pretty worried about you.”

  “I was worried too,” she replied with an unsure smile. “I swallowed some dead guy’s blood. I don’t know if that’s what made me sick or if I just made myself sick by worrying so much about it. You think if something serious was going to happen it would have by now, right?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not an expert. But it seems like you might be in the clear. You’re feeling better. I’d say that’s a good sign.”

  We sat silently for a moment gazing into the orange flame burning atop the candle, and the pool of wax melting beneath it. Then Naima asked a question that took me by surprise.

  “Do you still think about your grandma?”

  “All the time,” I replied. “Why?”

  “I think about my mom all the time too, though with each day that passes I think about her less and less. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, you know?”

  “It’s hard. You want to think about them, about the way you remembered them, the way they were when you were together, but then your mind starts thinking other things. Bad things.”

  “Like where they are today. Or what they are.”

  “Yeah, and then it almost seems easier to just think of something else, anything to set your mind at ease.”

  “Can you see her?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you shut your eyes…can you still see her? Can you picture her face?”

  I shut my eyes for a moment and drew up an image of my grandma. At the bookstore. Talking to one of her friends. One of the old ladies who would always stop by after breakfast at the Cracker Barrel. Maybe Mrs. Evans with the strong perfume, or Mrs. Lunsford with the lazy eye.

  “Yeah, I can see her fine.”

  “I can see my mom too, but it’s getting harder every day. And I’m afraid one morning I’m gonna wake up and I’ll have totally forgotten what she looks like….and then she’ll be gone for good.”

  “Trust me, I know the feeling. But it has to help having your father around.”

  Naima gave me a concerned glare. “Are you feeling all right?”

  I smiled. “What?”

  “He’s my dad and I love him, but he’s not really making this easier on me.”

  Or on any of us, I wanted to say.

  “He means well,” she continued. “He’s trying to help me. But sometimes I just…”

  “Just what?”

  “I just wish he’d give me some space.”

  “I’m sure he’ll back off eventually. He’s probably thinking about your mom a lot too, and so he knows how much it’s affecting you.”

  Naima sighed. Her deep exhale caused the candlelight to momentarily flicker, reshaping the shadows on the walls.

  “It’s not even that,” she finally said. “It’s the other thing.”

  I felt like I was about to jump into a dark pit without knowing how far I’d fall, or what terrible consequence would be waiting for me at the bottom. Still, I asked, “What…other thing?”

  “You know…with Jerry.”

  Oh, yes. Jerry. That name rang a bell. Jerry was the short guy in the 90s jean jacket with the glasses that were too big for his face, right? Jerry, the guy who had kidnapped Naima from the hospital he used to work at. The hospital where we’d found Olivia. Janitor Jerry. The sexual predator. The first person I’d ever shot…in the leg. The guy I’d left for Aamod to finish off.

  “My dad’s always been very protective of me, but ever since the incident with Jerry, he barely lets me out of his sight. I shouldn’t have told him what I did.”

  My mind flashed back to the day in the Mattress Barn bathroom, when Aamod threatened me just for talking with his daughter. He had said something that left me feeling confused. “He did enough. More than you know,” Aamod had said, referring to Jerry. I remember wondering what it was that Jerry did to Naima that I didn’t know. I had a feeling I was about to find out.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I said. “But I’m willing to listen if you want to talk about it.”

  Naima ran her hands down her face and took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, so there’s nothing for you to feel embarrassed about. But I understand if talking about it makes you uncomfortable. What you’re feeling is natural though, I’m sure.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Did Jerry…did he rape you?”

  “No, that’s the thing. He didn’t.”

  “What did he do then?”

  “He kidnapped me. He tied me up. But that’s all.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yeah, he just wanted to talk. He wanted to get to know me.”

  “That’s still wrong. He had no right to force himself on you like that, even if he didn’t do anything sexual.”

  “I know what he did was wrong,” Naima said, wiping away the tears from her eyes. “But I still shouldn’t have lied to my dad about what really happened.”

  “You lied to him?”

  “He was so concerned. So angry. He wouldn’t accept the truth.” The tone of her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “It’s like he wanted to believe I’d been raped just so he could go kill Jerry. So I told him that Jerry had touched me, when he really hadn’t.”

  I put my arm around her, pulled her close. “I understand. Trust me, I’ve done a few things I regret.”

  Naima glanced up at me, her eyes red and wet. “What have you done?”

  “I don’t know if Robinson or Peaches said anything to you about Diego…about what happened to him.” Naima shook her head. “Well, he killed himself that night in the woods, right before our camp was attacked. And I was the one up on watch with him. I knew he was gonna do it and didn’t try and stop him. Worse than that, I actually helped him go through with it. I gave him my gun.”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” Naima whispered.

  “So I understand what you’re feeling. If it makes you feel any better, I think in your case Jerry would have died anyway. I just left him there in that room, bleeding out from the leg. If anything, what your father did might have been more humane.”

  Naima had no response at first, and that was okay. I hoped she was processing everything I’d said in some way that could help heal her emotional wounds. I was doing the same. We both had baggage we needed to unload. Finally, she hugged me back and said, “I’m glad you told me. It makes me feel less alone.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad you told me too.”

  We embraced for a good minute before pulling away and resuming our fascination with the dancing flame in the center of the table. I finished off the last half of my water.

  “I like talking with you,” Naima said, breaking the silence. “You’re so different than I thought you’d be.”

  “What did you think I’d be?”

  “I don’t know…just different. You used to come into the store a lot and you were so shy. You barely said a word.”

  “Oh, that’s because I had a bit of a crush on you.”

  A cute grin bloomed on Naima’s face. The image of her as a zombie from my nightmare was long gone. Her natural beauty conquered all. “You had a crush on me? Really?”

  I couldn’t see my face, but I imagined blood rushing to fill my cheeks. “It’s true. I did.”

  “So I guess my father was right to be worried about you, huh?” she replied, still wearing the cutest grin.

  “No, not at all. I was never gonna say anything
about it, that’s for sure. I knew you were way out of my league.”

  “Why?”

  “Because...you just are,” I replied, blushing like a prom girl. “Why…are you saying you weren’t out of my league?”

  “You never know. You never tried.”

  “And if I had, your dad would have killed me anyway.”

  I’d come up with as many excuses as I needed to make myself feel better about not making a move back then. Pre-apocalypse. Back when the biggest problem I had was figuring out how to stare at the pretty convenience store girl without her stuffy father noticing.

  “He didn’t like you,” Naima said. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have. This might sound surprising, but I’ve never actually had a boyfriend before.”

  “It’s sort of surprising, yeah, but I guess I can understand given how aggressive your father is at protecting you.”

  Naima bowed her head. “A lot of it’s my fault. I just…I don’t know…felt like eventually someone would come around who would fight for me. Someone who would want to be with me so bad that even my father couldn’t scare them off. Then I’d know he was the right guy, and I think my father would know too. He’d figure it out. But now…everything’s changed. I doubt I’ll ever find someone in this world. You’re so lucky to have found Peaches. I’m jealous of what you two have. I really am.”

  “It feels good. But it’s also scary falling in love, because you never know when it’s gonna end. And it will end eventually. Maybe tomorrow. I don’t know. I just try to enjoy each day the best I can—try not to think about the things I’ve lost, like my grandma, and focus on the things I still have. Like Peaches. Like all of you.”

  “I’m glad you couldn’t sleep either,” she said, hugging me again. “Thank you for caring.”

  Before I could thank her back, someone surprised us with their presence in the dining room. The harsh tone of his voice instantly caused the two of us to pull away from one another.