Jack Zombie (Book 2): Dead Hope
Page 5
Darlene’s sunburnt face seems to drain of all color. “I know you’re scared,” I say to Darlene, “but it will be okay. I promise.”
She smiles with trembling lips.
I almost believe myself.
9
Abby and Darlene stand in front of the Dodge with their hands up. Norm is beside me, his face sweaty, his skin waxy. I think he might vomit.
Abby talks in a low voice, explaining our situation.
The older man with the gray hair doesn’t take his sights off of me. His beard is longer than the hair on his head, and a gaunt man stands next to him, nodding as Abby talks. This man’s hair is long, a jet black, and his beard is scraggly but not as long as the older man’s. He also has a gun, but it’s in his hand, resting on the side of his thigh.
The older man nods to the younger one, and the younger one disappears. Abby turns to me and gives me a thumbs up. What’s that supposed to mean? They won’t kill us as gruesomely as we think? They’ll let us go?
Norm leans over the roof, his hands covering his mouth, but not fast enough. Puke spews from between his fingers, splattering me. It’s not a thumbs up moment at all.
“Oh, man,” he says, “I feel so much better.”
About two minutes later, I’m crawling down a ladder with Norm’s puke drying on my t-shirt. He’s on the ground. Abby practically holds him up.
“That all of you?” the older man says, gun still trained on me.
I am annoyed and I am scared. The zombie apocalypse not only brings out the worst in corpses, but also people. These guys could be cannibals, rapists, murderers. How am I supposed to know? And we just succumb to them without so much as a fight.
“Yeah, that’s all,” Darlene says. “We are telling the truth.”
“We’ll see about that,” the old man says.
He circles behind us.
“Want me to unload, Pa?” the younger man asks.
My blood freezes. Unload? What is this, a firing squad?
“No, Bri, not in front of them. Not until I seen what they’ve been up to inside.”
“All right, Pa, but I don’t think we have much to worry about. That one just vomited off the roof. Dummies, if you ask me. Surprised they made it this long.”
I’m not bothered. He is right, Norm was stupid, and in about three hours when the booze headache hits him square in the noggin, he’ll be really sorry.
We walk up through the front door.
The old man sniffs deeply. “Wow, y’all found my steak and eggs, I see.” He spins around, the harsh light streaking in through the thin curtains shading the windows cause him to look crazy. A man on his last thread of sanity. Can I blame him? We did break into his house after all.
“In the kitchen,” the old man says.
We follow him, the younger man behind us.
“Have a seat,” he says. “I’d like to know who has been staying in my place. Whether I should punish them or not.” Yeah, I’d like to see him try. Then he turns to the younger man. “Wouldn’t you, Brian?”
Brian nods.
The older man pulls out a chair and sits down. His weapon is something James Bond would use, a sleek, black pistol with a silencer on the end. He aims it at the four of us.
“What’s your names? I’m Tony. Tony Richards,” he says. “Please have a seat.”
My eyes drift back to the gun he holds on us. Not the first time I’ve had one pointed at me, but I make it seem like it is. “It’d be a lot easier to talk if I wasn’t fearing for my life,” I say.
Tony looks down at the pistol as if he forgot it was there. He chuckles. “This old thing? It’s just precautionary. You understand, I’m sure.”
“You don’t have to worry about us,” I say.
I expect Norm to say something stupid here. His macho side is apt to show up during times where our backs are literally up against the wall. I get none of that. Instead he leans forward, his head in his hands, and mumbles something about needing an aspirin.
“I already told him that,” Abby says as if I could hear what the hell they were talking about while I was dangling, puke-covered, from this man’s roof.
“And that’s exactly what one of Spike’s men would say to cover his ass,” Tony says.
I lean forward. Flakes of Norm’s vomit fall from my shirt onto this guy’s dinner table. I catch it falling out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly the aroma of steak and eggs doesn’t seem so enticing. “Listen, Tony Richards, I don’t know who Spike is, but you do realize with your logic, you are pretty much saying you’re going to kill us.”
Tony ponders this a moment, scrunching his forehead up. I know his type. Like this before the world went to shit, camouflaged hunting vests, fake testicles dangling from the back bumper of the truck which is too big for him to get in and out of comfortably, a wad of chew packed tight in between rotting teeth and cheek. This is the type of guy you’d expect to survive the zombie apocalypse. Redneck. Second Amendment defender. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against these types of people. I’m pretty open-minded, and the end of the world has made that even more true (I mean, I’ve considered eating bugs, man), but I do have something against them when they’re pointing a gun at my family.
“I guess you’re right,” Tony says. He smiles. It’s a pained smile. A moment of realization hits me. Tony Richards is older and covered in stress-wrinkles and a long, gray beard, but he is a man whose face a smile does not belong. He is the man in the picture with his wife and twin sons. The picture on the mantel. This is not how I thought I’d meet him. Hell, I never thought I’d actually meet him.
“Is that your son?” I ask. “Is that your twin boy?”
The smile vanishes. The gun is now in my face, inches away. “How would you know that? I don’t know you. I’ve never met you. You’d only know that if you was working for Spike.”
“No,” I say. “I saw the picture.”
Darlene scoots a little closer to me. She is shaking, visibly shaking. Times like these, I’d put my arm around her and calm her down, but I can’t.
“What the hell do you want from us?” I say. “If you’re going to kill us, don’t draw it out. Just fucking do it.” I puff out my chest, looking more like a chicken than a brave man. This is usually the point Norm intervenes with his macho side.
I’m doing my best.
“To the point,” Tony says, nodding. “I like that.” He lowers his pistol. “I’ll get to the point, too, then, I guess. Seeing as y’all’s on my property, I don’t think what I plan to do with you is any of your goshdarned business.”
Brian nods and folds his arms. For the moment, I see the resemblance. I see the similarity from the photo sitting on the mantle in Tony Richards’s living room. He doesn’t look as young anymore. He looks like he’s seen some shit, but we all have. The wispy hair on his face hides most of the recognizable features, and he’s lost a good ten to fifteen pounds.
Tony turns to look at him. If I ever had a chance to break out of here, it would be now. I would, too, if Norm wasn’t half-zonked out of his mind. He’s been constantly moaning the entire time we’ve been at the table. We are outmatched. We are outgunned.
“What you think, son? Should I let them go? Or make them pay?”
Brian nods his head from side to side. “Like I said, they’re too dumb to be part of Spike’s crew.”
“Well, friends, today’s your lucky day,” Tony says.
“Lucky because I’m stuck in a house with an old redneck, staring down the wrong end of a gun. Yeah, lucky as hell,” I say.
Tony smiles the smile that looks so misplaced. Brian does not.
“Lucky because I’m letting you go. All of you,” Tony says.
“Why is that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. It’s almost too good to be true.
“Shut up, Jack,” Darlene says. “Don’t question him.”
Abby nods, her eyes wide.
Norm doesn’t do anything. He’s pretty much dead to the world.
But I won’t risk it.
I stand up. “Fine, we’ll get out of your hair. And we apologize for breaking into your house.”
“Lovely home by the way,” Darlene says as she follows my lead. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
Tony smiles, but it’s not that uncomfortable, genuine one. It’s a fake.
“Yeah, sorry,” Abby says.
“Come on, Norm,” I say, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
He mumbles.
“We’re gonna have to carry him out of here,” Abby says, giving him a shake.
“He’ll make it to Eden,” I say.
And it’s like the air is sucked out of the room.
Brian pulls a gun free from the back of his waistband, points it at us. Tony lifts his off the table, gets up so fast, the chair he was sitting on flips behind him.
“Liars!” Tony shouts.
My heart drops. Abby almost trips over her own feet. Darlene shrieks and puts herself behind me.
“You know about Eden! You fuckin dirty liars!” Brian says. “Y’all said you didn’t. They’re working for him, Pa!”
Tony gets this menacing look on his face and grabs the pistol. “Send Spike my regards.”
10
Maybe the old me, the one who I think died in the Great Fire of Woodhaven last year, — yeah, that’s what I’m calling it now — would shit his pants and let this old geezer boss me around. Let him jam a gun in my face. But that’s not me anymore. Norm isn’t all there to back me up, so I have to act fast.
I slap the pistol from his hand. It goes flying behind him, the silencer thumps the counter, and lets off a muffled shot into the peeling, striped wall paper.
Tony’s face turns up into a snarl. Seriously, add a bit of blood and make him smell a little worse and you’d think he was one of the zombies.
His son aims at me, but Abby is on him fast as ever. She’s grown into quite an athlete since we’ve been on the road. I’m almost too impressed to punch Tony in the face.
Almost.
I cock back and slug the old man across the jaw. His bones aren’t brittle. They must be made of steel because my knuckles explode with white-hot pain.
Still, Tony stumbles over his overturned chair and lands in a heap. An empty dog bowl goes spinning across the linoleum floor, its silver catching rays of sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window.
I reach for the gun.
Darlene screams behind all of the chaos, a dazed and seemingly half-dead Norm in her arms. “Stop! Stop it!”
She senses the blood about to be spilled. She senses the kill in the air.
So do I.
I grab the gun, the cold iron filling my hand, sending buzzes of powerful electricity through my skin.
Tony sees me, and I must look crazy again because he scoots himself across the floor until he hits the dead refrigerator and puts his hands up. “Please, don’t please.”
A calm washes over the room. I feel all eyes on me, even Norm’s. Abby has since subdued the skinny, young man. He’s on his knees, his head down, and his shaggy, black hair hanging over his face. His hands are up half-heartedly, but he wants to die. I can see it as much as I can feel it. He wants Abby to end his life, and with the end of his life will come the end of the suffering, the nightmares, the constant looking over your shoulder.
Tony Richards, the old man, he doesn’t want to die. He wants to live.
“Stop, Jack. Stop it! This isn’t you,” Darlene says.
I take a deep, shaky breath. She’s right. It’s not. But sometimes we have to wear disguises if we want to get what we need.
I aim the gun at the old man’s head. My index finger wavers as it brushes the trigger.
“Please,” Tony Richards says while his son says nothing. “Please, we can work something out. You all can stay here, if you want.”
“With psychopaths who want to kill us?” I say. Even I don’t like the way I sound. “I think not.”
“You don’t understand. Eden? You’re from Eden and you don’t have feelings. You don’t. Spike — I can’t go back to him. I escaped once, I’m never going back there,” Tony says, babbling. The babbles turn to sobs. He brings a big, callused hand up to his face and wipes away sweat and tears at the same time. “Please, please,” he says.
“We aren’t from Eden,” I say. “We already told you that.”
He looks up at me. “You’re not?”
“No. We’re trying to get there. Geez, man. I’m not your enemy. We’re not your enemy,” I say.
Abby nods.
“Yeah,” Norm croaks.
“How did you know about it?” Tony asks. “It-it’s supposed to be a secret now.”
“Everyone knows!” I shout. “There’s signs and clues all over the highway. People talk about it. We’re just some of the refugees looking for save haven.”
“Eden is not safe,” Tony says. The way he speaks chills me.
I don’t know what to say. So many questions come to mind that none of them can come out.
“Jack,” Darlene says. “Let’s go. Let’s leave.” Her face is pale, that sunburn drained. I feel the dejected spirit of the group. They don’t want to believe Tony’s words. Neither do I.
“Pleaseeee — ” Tony begins again. The rest of his words are choked out by sobs.
I grab the pistol with both hands now, steadying my aim just like Norm taught me. But I do not pull the trigger.
Instead, I hit the magazine release. I let the clip fall to the linoleum and the sound it makes is close to a gunshot. So close, I see Brian shutter to my right and Tony Richards convulse as if I had just shot him. He opens his eyes. Looks around at the drab kitchen then at his son and smiles. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you!”
“I’m not your enemy,” I say again.
Abby hasn’t lowered her weapon. She’s learned that the hard way, too. I know she won’t pull the trigger, but what’s left of the Richards family doesn’t.
Tony’s face, which had been growing rosy since he realized I didn’t shoot him, begins to drain of all color again.
“You don’t want to go to Eden,” he says. “I mean it, son.”
Then Brian starts laughing. I look over to him. His hair shakes with each deep rumble. “We’re so stupid,” he says. “So stupid, Dad.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “How so?”
He looks up at me. That look is in his eyes, the look that wasn’t there before — a man on his last thread of sanity. “We keep our mouths shut about Eden, tell you where to go, how to get there, and then…BOOM! You’re dead.”
I jump at the sound of his voice.
“Spike sees you coming — believe me, Spike sees everything — and next thing you know, your head is on a pike outside the gates. Then me and my Pa here live out the rest of our days as happy as we can be, never having to worry about you idiots coming back and trying to take what’s ours,” Brian continues.
“Why should we believe you?” I ask. Eden has to be safe, it just has to.
Brian ignores my comment.
“Too late, Pa! Too late!”
Abby hits him with the pistol. Clobbers him right in the temple, and Brian is a heap of bones on the linoleum.
My eyes bulge at the sight. I have to do a double take to make sure it really happened.
Behind me, Darlene gasps. “Abby,” she says as if she’s offended.
Abby shrugs. “What? He was creeping me out.”
I look to Tony, putting on my fake tough guy voice, the one Norm does so much better. “You’re next if you don’t tell us more about Eden.” It’s almost laughable. I’m not cut out for this job.
; The voice is shabby, but it seems to do the trick. Tony looks at me with a little more respect than he did before. He knows I’m in control, and that’s good enough for me.
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” he says. “But what’s the point? You won’t believe me. It was once a place you could go to be safe, but now it’s overrun by a madman and his equally crazy followers. You don’t want to go there. You don’t want to — ”
“You’re right,” I say. “We are going to Eden. You may be lying or you may be telling the truth. One way or the other, I’m finding out for myself. If it’s how you say it is, then my group and I will take it back. When we do, we will send a car out here for you, and you and your son can live in peace.” Abby and Darlene stare at me. I like to think there is respect written on their faces. Norm is hunched over the back of a chair, his eyes barely open. I try to think more like him and what he would say in a situation like this. “We’ll need weapons and a ride if you can spare one,” I finally say.
“Don’t,” Tony says. “Don’t go. I have nothing to give you. I cannot help.”
“Bullshit,” Abby says. “The basement is locked and I’m guessing it’s locked for a reason. You got something in there you don’t want anyone else to see.”
She’s right.
Tony is shaking his head. “No,” he says. “Don’t go down there.”
But I’m already moving out of the kitchen toward the small hallway and the basement beyond. “We won’t take all of your weapons, just enough to get us there so we can see for ourselves,” I shout back, looking over my shoulder.
Tony starts to get up, but Abby is on him with her gun. “Don’t move,” she says.
11
The basement door is locked, but the lock is no match for a bullet. I shoot it once, my head turned and my eyes shielded. A metallic whine fills the small corridor.
I open the door. The smell that hits me is a smell of death and decay, a smell I have always associated with basements. Mildew. Dust. Cobwebs.