The zombie looked up at me and howled. I buried the tip of my gun into its brain, not once, but twice. I graced Ann with the same, no sense she waking with a zombie appetite. I came out into the clearing feeling better.
Brittany ran to me, ready to swing. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“One last zombie, I took care of him. Let’s go.” I wiped the spew off the end of my gun and marched forward.
Brittany gave me a congratulatory smirk and took her lead position again. I stepped over a dead zombie and something shining caught my eye. I cautiously bent down. I made it a practice not to get close to zombie bodies, dead or otherwise. Beneath a zombie’s back lay intrigue, the shiny thing that captured my attention.
My fingers were trembling and I couldn’t stop them. Telling myself the creature was dead had little effect on them. Still, I couldn’t stop shaking and I couldn’t move on without it. I knew what it was. Metal. I gingerly lifted the deadweight and pulled it out, one of the dead woman’s hammers. We can use this. I wore a belt with my pants; I stuck it there and for good measure, kicked the zombie before catching up to the others.
Minutes later we saw the others moving toward a house. We kept our pace, no need to hurry; it looked as though this would be our home for the night.
Jones went in while Thompson watched at the door. By the time we reached the house, they were inside scavenging.
The fading sunlight told the tale. This was our home tonight. I walked in to see Thompson reclining on a couch. I pushed past the others to find Jones. Searching room to room, I found him in a back bedroom. “Hey.”
Jones looked up at me from inside a closet, “hey.”
“We got the girl; she looks maybe five or six.” I thought that may smooth things over between us.
“What would you like to do next?”
His words were sweet and softly spoken. They did more damage that way. He stuck me with his knife and twisted for good measure. “What do you think we should do?”
“What do you think we should do?” another stab, and that one hurt more.
I had to nip it in the bud. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. You are my commanding officer and I broke rank.” My shaky words were strong.
“Respect my authority, Zee Zee.” He sneered. “We can’t save the world.”
His words hurt. I deserved them and didn’t fight back. “I know.”
“People are dying out there at this moment.” His face was bright red as he jabbed his finger in the air. “We will never be able to save everyone.”
“I know. It was a little girl, Jones. Can’t you understand that? It was a little girl. If they had died, what was she supposed to do on her own? I had to help her.”
“You’re my second, Baker. You can’t do that in front of people. Your job is to back me and follow orders.
“I always back you and I do follow orders.”
He gave me a confused look.
“I’m sorry. I won’t cross the line again. Will you forgive me?”
“Don’t do it again.”
I felt better. “I won’t.”
“Check out the kitchen. You and Dushell have kitchen duty. Dismissed.”
He turned his back to me and went back to searching the closet. I snapped to attention and saluted his back. It felt like old times. I left the room full of energy and in high spirits. Dushell stood by a window. She would get a kick out of this one. “Private Dushell, kitchen duty.” I smirked.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” she shot back.
We laughed as we walked to the kitchen. A shadow went across a wall and we snapped into soldier mode. “They checked the whole house, didn’t they?”
Brittany looked apprehensive. “We better double-check.”
“Yeah.”
I went right, she went left. It was a nice kitchen in a nice house. We fanned out and looked on both sides of the marbled island fixed in the center of the room. We didn’t think they could get in them, but we opened all the bottom shelves and looked under the table for hidden zombies.
I set my mind to wonder where the shadow came from. It happened again and I saw it. I saw several thin wires wrapped together. The wire was moving the kitchen blind.
“Britt?”
She crept to me, watching the wire and blind move. “What’s that?” she whispered.
I shook my head. I had no idea what it was. It came from the floor. Specifically, it shot up from a larger hole in the floor. I waved Brittany closer and whispered. “Is there a basement in this house?”
She whispered back, “they didn’t say.”
“Come on.”
We eased back out of the kitchen. Ruthie washed Katy’s face in a bowl she found. I noticed my backpack next to her was open. Was it my precious bottled water she used? My stomach dropped. Pushing back my anger, I put a finger to my lips to quiet them. Now wasn’t the time to discuss supplies.
Thompson got to his feet and picked up his rifle. I tiptoed to the couch, got mine, and Brittany pulled her pipe from her backpack. Looking around, I spotted the door to the basement.
“Did you or Jones check the basement?” I whispered to Thompson.
His confusion told the story. He sadly shook his head.
“Follow me.”
I led us to the door and quietly turned the doorknob and eased the door open. I held my nose, a putrid smell rose from the basement. Zombies were in the basement. Jones and Thompson hadn’t thoroughly searched. I shot a look at Thompson and he shrugged as if it wasn’t him. How could he not care?
Not now, I told myself. I turned back to the basement door and steeled myself for entry. I saw a ceiling light fixture, a long chord dangled from it. From behind me came a light. I looked back and saw it came from Brittany’s flashlight.
I descended the steps carefully, imagining a zombie grabbing my feet to trip me. I watched too much TV and believe it or not, I loved the scenes of the stupid girls tripping and getting whacked. They deserved it.
“Zee?” Brittany whispered behind me.
“Shh, I see something.”
I motioned her forward and directed her to shine her light against a wall. That’s it. I saw a wall of cement that went nearly to the top of the ceiling. About a foot separated it from touching the ceiling. In the middle was a door with a piece of wood across it, slid through holders on either side of the door.
Up above I saw the wire moving. When Brittany shined her light on it, it stopped. Someone was inside, moving the wire.
“Hey, anybody out there?” it was a man’s voice, filled with desperation. He was human. “Hey!”
“Wh-who is there?” I asked.
“Hey, help me. Open the door and let me out.”
I moved forward to open the door, Brittany grabbed me. “Don’t open that door. He’s back there for a reason. That’s a prison cell.”
“Hey.” The man pounded on the door. “Don’t leave me here.”
“Why are you back there?” I asked.
“Open the door and let me out.”
“Why are you back there? What did you do?”
“Nothing. Let me out.” The banging became more of a frantic escape attempt.
The man was human and that was good enough for me. I could no more leave him than I could leave Katy. Instinctively, I held up my M16. With ambivalence, I took a step forward.
Thompson grabbed me. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I shook loose. “You’re not me.” I slid the piece of wood aside.
“Zee,” Brittany protested.
“Shh.” I cautiously opened the door. I held up my gun, ready to fire. I expected a charge. What I saw was a man chained at his waist and wrists to a wall. There were clothes strewn about and a few metal clothes hangers were near him. I thought of the wire and it occurred to me that it was a collection of straightened out clothes hangers. The man was standing inside a closet.
The smell was strongest here and from the scent, it came from this room. To the left of him lay a body in chains,
a dead zombie. The zombie’s head was smashed in and its brains lay seeping into the dirt floor. I looked at the bits of brain and its grossness made my face sour in repulsion. Following the gook on the ground, I ended my gaze at the man’s feet, his right cowboy boot had traces of green slime.
“What happened?” I demanded.
“They locked us down here in chains, zombies scratched us. She turned, I didn’t.”
I wavered, my rifle didn’t. It sounded plausible and the blood on his boot proved it. “How long have you been locked up.”
The man pointed to something out of my view. I stepped forward and craned my neck to look without having to go further into the hell before me. I saw five jugs of water in plastic gallon containers. Three were on their sides, empty. Next to the water, I saw sealed and emptied bags of beef jerky. I hate to say it, given where I was and the rancid smell in the air, but my mouth watered. The thought of the jerky overpowered my repulsion.
“Explain?”
“They left us. It was two days ago.”
Thompson was our zombie expert. It killed me to have to turn to him. I had no choice. “Thompson. What do you think? Is his story possible?”
Thompson came forward. His smirk pronounced, curbing the corners of his thin lips upward. He enjoyed himself at my expense. I still want to kill him.
Chapter 7
Thompson brushed past me. I know it was his attempt to prove his superiority to me. One day I would get to put him in his place and it would feel good. He briefly eyed the man before going to the dead zombie. He bent down and did something I couldn’t see. Moments later he rose. “This corpse is at least a day old. His story makes sense.”
“How do you know?”
He glowered. “I know!”
I wasn’t going to argue with him. I passed my gun to Brittany and went to see if I could free the man. Remembering my hammer, I took it out.
“No, no!” He shouted. “Hit that chain.” He pointed to the center chain bolted to the floor.
“Whatever,” I said. Even though he wasn’t in any danger, he turned his head as I slammed the hammer down. I freed the chain and he bolted past me and up the stairs without a word.
“That’s gratitude for ya.”
Brittany echoed my sentiments.
“Let’s get out of here.”
We went back upstairs. With the door shut tight, the smell died. It surprised me to see our guest there. I figured he wouldn’t slow down until he hit the border. “You have a name?” It wasn’t a bark, at least I didn’t think it was.
“Charley Penwright.”
The gall of these people. Like Ruthie, he went through my pack and chowed down on one of my cans of pork-n-beans. I looked mortified. Then I thought, where’s Ruthie and Katy?
“Uh-hem,” said Jones.
Jones was standing in the hallway. To his left was Ruthie and behind her, wrapped around her leg was Katy.
“Hey.”
“I see I missed the party.” Jones’ gaze fixed solely on me.
I shuddered, I had done it again. “I see they found you.”
“Yeah,” he snarled, “they did.”
Before I could utter my pitiful sorry, he turned to the man on the couch.
“Charley Penwright,” he said without looking up. He was nearly through wolfing down my beans.
Jones looked at him, but directed his words toward me. “Is chow ready?”
“Sorry.” I nodded to Brittany and we both went back to the kitchen. We rifled through the cabinets, they were bare. The only bright spot was that we found a pack of unopened children’s birthday paper plates. I found a rag and wiped down the table. Brittany collected our bags from the living room while I opened the blinds to catch the last of the sun’s light.
Brittany had helped in a way I would later discover had been profound. She carried napkins in her pack; most of our canned goods were in mine. I opened the remaining beans and counted our growing number of mouths. Jones, Dushell, Thompson, me, Tom, Ruthie, Katy, and Don. No wait, I counted again, something felt wrong. I counted eight people and sat up eight plates. We had two cans of green beans, one can of spinach, four cans of pork-n-beans we got from our zombie couple, and in Jones’ pack, I found two beers. We wouldn’t need the beers so I left them in his pack and took out a can opener. I was ready, but saw no way to divide the meal.
Brittany called them to the table. This would have to sustain us until we got to the store in the morning. I wasn’t optimistic about what we would find. Still, there had to be something at the store we could use.
Everyone gathered around the table and stood next to a plate. It should have just been us— the guy we rescued had already polished off my can of beans.
Jones looked at what we had done and scowled. I have no doubt if we were back in camp we would be on latrine duty for a month. The meal looked dismal. It hit me. “Wait a minute.” I raced out of the room and with a few hurried breaths, I opened the basement door. I ran to the back cell, gathered my find, and raced back to the kitchen with my bounty.
I opened a bag of jerky and put a couple pieces on each plate. It dressed them up better, making me feel better. Brittany provided the cups and I poured from a jug of water. “It’s buffet style.” I explained. I passed the first can of green beans with a plastic spoon to Jones on my left.
“Wait,” said Tom, or was it Charley. It was definitely the guy from the basement. “Anyone want to say a quick prayer?” That impressed me.
“I will,” said Ruthie. They bowed their heads, she said a prayer. I didn’t listen to her words. I watched the faces of my new family. The former prisoner had his head bowed, impressive.
Ruthie finished and Jones handed her the can of beans. She put heaping spoonfuls in two plates for her and Katy, then passed the can to Thompson. The cans rotated in the same fashion in silence. The partials were placed in the center of the table and we dug in.
Like most, I went first to the beef jerky; I was dying to take a bite. It felt heavenly. I missed it and ice cream. Some stayed at the table and the rest retired to the living room. I saw Jones heading to the living room and followed. He detoured to a bedroom and so did I.
“What is it, Private Baker?”
“Are we back to formality?”
“What do you want, Zee Zee?” that wasn’t much better. I could feel his hostility even though he was speaking softly.
“Don’t call me that.”
“What do you want?” Jones spoke low, but the words had a bite to them.
Here goes nothing. “It happened so fast there wasn’t time to get you.” His eyes rolled. “There wasn’t,” I pleaded.
“You want to replace me?” he looked at me wildly, that hurt worse than the insult.
“No, I don’t even like the army, you know that.”
“Really, well how come every time I look around I see you in the middle of something you have no business being in?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t play innocent with me.”
“I’m not,” I strained to keep my voice down.
“Whatever, Zee Zee.”
“Don’t call me that!” I roared and then immediately regretted it.
Jones looked as if he loathed me. His fists were balled and I could see him restraining himself, I prayed it continued. He moved back and forth on the balls of his feet. Still, he stayed in his place and didn’t advance toward me.
“I’m going to be . . . ,” he said softly, “may I have some privacy?”
“Sure.”
I left the room, dejected. I had to find a way to repair our relationship. Jones was a great guy. He deserved better.
“Zora,” said little Katy. She ran to me and hugged me around my legs; her head barely came to my waste. I looked down at her and had no idea what to say. “Here, want some?”
I looked into her little hand, it held a thin piece of jerky. “No, Sweetie. That’s yours. You need to eat it so you can grow up big and strong.” It sounded stupid say
ing it, but that’s all I had.
“It’s not mine, it’s Charley’s. He didn’t want it and gave it to me. I ate mine first. Then I had beans, two kinds, and then I—”
“Wait. Charley, that’s the guy from downstairs?”
“Yes.”
“He gave you his food?”
“Yes.”
I saw him on the couch looking at us. I left Katy and stood in front of him. “You gave her your food? Why?”
Charley looked whimsical. “I thought that would have been obvious.”
I bristled. “Oh.”
“I ate jerky for two days. Every man likes a little variety in his diet.” He looked me head to toe, grinning.
I clenched my fist in anger. I wanted nothing more than to slap him and wipe the smug look from his face. Instead, I retreated to the kitchen.
“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Brittany asked.
I picked up a towel to help her clean. “Nothing.” My sigh turned into a yawn.
“Did Jones make out any sleeping arrangements?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, don’t you think you need to check? Me, I’m good. I had a stray thought about the rest.”
“Fine. Damn!”
I left the kitchen in a huff and didn’t stop until I was face to face with Jones. Dushell did that on purpose, some blood brother she turned out to be. “Did you make out sleeping assignments?”
Jones stared out the window into the dark. “There are two bedrooms. The other is the biggest; assign it to the mother and daughter. You and Dushell will stay with them. I will take this one and the rest have the living room.”
“All right.” I waited for him to dismiss me.
Jones never turned around to face me, so after a minute, I left. I gathered Brittany, Ruthie and Katy in the large bedroom. They got the bed. Brittany and I would rotate guard duty and sleep on the floor. Jones didn’t command it; I acted as if he had. I stayed in the room most of the time, then walked throughout the house, except for the basement.
Zombie Zora Page 6