“A curse?”
“Yeah. You know, like that black magic niggers practice. Something like that.”
“That’s horse shit.”
“You got a better explanation?”
John shook his head. There was no explanation for what was happening. How could there be? Everyone in town was eating each other, busting down jail cell doors, and seemingly taking round after round without missing a beat unless it was a head shot. And worst of all, some of the people were dead, had to be. There was no way something living could walk around with half its belly hanging out.
“All I know,” Paul said, “is that we’re getting out of here and getting that money.”
“You’re still thinking about that damn money?”
“Fuck yeah. We need to stay focused on the money, John, because that is what’s going to help us see this through.”
“You don’t listen do you? I don’t want the damn money.”
“That’s right, I forgot that you’re Mister Righteous now.”
“You’re a damn fool.”
Something crashed against the door and the feet of the metal tub gouged into the wooden floor. Metal hit the door and the wood splintered. From outside came cheers and applause.
“Get going,” John said. “That door ain’t gonna hold.”
Paul pushed his way out of the window, grabbing the roof. A piece of glass tore into his right leg and Paul nearly lost his grip. He dug into the roof and wrenched himself out of the window and pulled himself up. “Hand me your shotgun!”
John grabbed his shotgun and handed it up to Paul. The door was falling under increasing abuse, the wood shattering into long splinters. The head of an axe broke through the weakening wood and was wrenched free, tearing out a large chunk the door in the process. John pulled himself up into the window frame. “Pull me up!”
Paul set the gun on the roof. The rain continued to fall in sheets and the roof was slick. Paul ran back over to the window, grabbing for John’s flailing hands.
The door imploded under a final blow of the axe, sheets of broken wood crashing down. A huge naked man tossed the axe into the washroom, took two steps back, and crashed against the door. He broke his way through the door’s ruins and rammed into the tub. It groaned under the pressure and slid away. The naked man backed up, loose flaps of flesh dangling from his eviscerated belly, and rammed full speed into the tub.
John looked back into the washroom just in time to see the tub give way. Now that he had more leverage, the naked fat man knocked aside the dresser with one blow. The zombie horde stood behind the naked man, their eyes focusing in on John.
“They’re coming!” John yelled.
Paul reached down and grabbed John’s hands. John flopped out of the window, his bare feet dangling above the fence.
“Hold still,” Paul said. “I’m going to drop you!” Because of the extra weight, Paul slid down the roof, the rain-slicked shingles refusing to provide any traction. John lifted his feet and put them on the window frame, just inches from the razor-sharp shards of glass. Paul repositioned his feet and started to back up.
“Pull!” John yelled. He looked through the window just in time to see the desk go flying across the room. With tremendous effort, Paul yanked John onto the roof. Several bloodstained hands shot out of the window, grasping at air.
“Sorry,” John said as he collapsed onto the roof. “I thought they were going to get me.”
Paul picked up John’s shotgun and handed it to his brother. “Here.”
The rain dropped off to a steady drizzle. Off in the distance lightning rippled across the dark clouds. John walked over to the edge of the roof and looked down. “I think we’re pretty much fucked.”
A hand clawed its way out of the window and reached up for the roof, its broken and bloodied fingers grasping at the edge. John raised the butt of his shotgun and smashed the hand, which quickly vanished back into the window.
Paul walked over to his brother. “We can’t jump to any other buildings--they’re all too far away. We could sit here and pick them off one by one, but if they’re smart enough to get an axe, they’re smart enough to eventually get a ladder.”
More hands began to the snake out of the window.
“We’ll have to find a place to drop down to the ground.”
“That fall will kill us.” Paul spit. “I knew we shouldn’t have come up here.”
“It bought us some time. That alley was a damn death trap.”
Paul turned away from his brother and walked toward the front of the building. “If this building has a porch, maybe we can drop down that way.”
A zombie pulled itself onto the roof. It was a young man, his throat torn to shreds. John walked up to the zombie and blew its arms off. The zombie hung there for a moment and then slid off the roof. From below came the shattering of wood and a loud splash.
“Is there a porch?” John checked the shotgun for ammunition and looked over the side. Two zombies were trying to squeeze through the window at the same time. One of them bit the other one on the face.
Paul reached the front of the building and looked down. There was a small porch and the street below was empty. Lightning flashed and reflected back upon itself in the large puddles that dotted the road. “Over here,” Paul said.
John ran over to his brother and looked down. “That’ll work,” he said as he jumped off the roof.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The wagon slowly cut through the mud of the road, the two horses struggling to maintain forward motion. Ed held the reins, his Colt clutched in one hand; a small revolver that he retrieved from the barn sat on the seat next to him.
Esperanza sat next to him, the rifle across her lap. In her other hand she held a small lantern. The rain had completely stopped, but thunder and lightning still rumbled all around them. The little available light formed a glare on the moist mud and puddles that dotted the road, making it hard to see. Ed leaned over the side of the wagon and looked down to gauge how close they were to the side of the road.
“Think there are more of those things in town?” Ed asked.
“I don’t know.” Esperanza clutched the rosary in one hand, slowly working her way through the beads in prayer.
“We could head out into the desert, you know. Hole up somewhere and wait for the weather to clear and then go into town.”
“We’d get lost out there, Ed. We’ll be safe in town.”
“I hope so.” Ed fidgeted in his seat. Despite his feelings about her religious beliefs, Ed had a great deal of respect for Esperanza. She was smart and didn’t take shit from anybody, not even Jerry. In fact, she was the only person who could stand up to his uncle without fear of retribution. He’d seen Esperanza light into Jerry like a bobcat and his uncle never said anything back. Ed assumed that it had something to do with his aunt dying, but he never asked. There was an unspoken rule around the farm that you didn’t talk about Aunt Betty.
“Thank you for saving me,” Esperanza said.
“Shit, you saved me. I just stood there like a jackass.” Ed looked at Esperanza. “Pardon the language.”
“It’s okay. How far do you think we are from town?”
“Not sure. We’re moving real slow. We got a ways to go, I think.”
Lightning flashed overheard and in that brief moment Ed saw a figure stumbling toward them.
“There’s someone on the road,” he said.
“Where?”
“Up ahead about thirty, forty feet.”
“Maybe we should stop.”
“What if it’s one of those things?”
“What if it isn’t?”
Ed looked at Esperanza. He didn’t want to stop. If they stopped in deep mud they could be stuck out here, trapped. Esperanza gave Ed a look that said he didn’t have much choice in the matter. Ed pulled the reins and the wagon creaked to a halt in the sloppy mud.
Lightning cracked overhead in a brilliant burst and for a moment both Ed and Esperanza could
see the figure standing in front of them. The figure saw the wagon and started to walk toward them. The lightning faded from the sky and the road fell dark. Ed took the lantern from Esperanza. “Stay here.”
Ed lowered himself from the wagon, his Colt in one hand. He walked up to the horses and stopped. The lamp cast a pale glow over the road and on the periphery he saw the figure.
“Hey there,” Ed said. “You need some help?”
The figure stumbled into the light and Ed saw that it was a young man, probably around fourteen or so. The young man was covered in blood and his face was a mask of terror. Ed raised the Colt. “Stay right there,” he said. “I don’t want to shoot you.”
The young man stopped. “Help me,” he muttered.
“You got the sickness?”
“My momma,” the young man said. “She died and bit my daddy.” The young man dropped to his knees. “She ate my daddy….”
Ed turned to Esperanza. “Come down here and cover me.”
A moment later Esperanza was by Ed’s side, rifle at the ready.
“If he so much as moves, shoot him,” Ed said.
Ed moved toward the young man, the Colt still aimed at him. Esperanza followed Ed, and the lantern’s glow slowly moved up the road toward the young man.
Ed stopped a few feet short of the young man. “Do you have the sickness?”
The young man looked up at Ed and even in the dim light Ed saw the tears running down the young man’s face. “No.”
“Stand up.” Ed kept the Colt trained on the young man.
The young man stood up slowly, as if he had to carry the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked at Ed.
“What happened?” Esperanza asked. She stood behind Ed, the rifle still trained on the young man.
“We were camped outside of Jackson because we couldn’t afford to stay in the hotel. My mother got real sick right before dark, got a real bad fever. Pa was trying to get the horses out of the mud so we could take her back to town,” the young man paused, his mouth chewing the words, “and then she died and…and bit my pa. I ran off and ran until I couldn’t run anymore.”
Ed turned to Esperanza. She looked at him and nodded. Ed lowered his Colt. “Come with us. We’re headed for town. What’s your name?”
“Joseph Campbell,” the young man said. “Outta Kansas.”
“All right, Joseph, I’m Ed and this is Esperanza. Follow us.” Ed turned and walked back to the wagon, Esperanza and Joseph following behind him.
Ed and Esperanza climbed into the front of the wagon and Joseph climbed into the back. “You know how to shoot?” Ed asked him.
“Fair enough, I reckon.” Joseph looked wasted, like all the life had been sucked out of him.
“Take this,” Ed said. He handed Joseph the small revolver. “There ain’t much ammunition for it, so you’re going to have to shoot carefully. Be sure you hit ‘em in the head.”
Joseph nodded, the gun sitting in his lap.
Ed picked up the reins and whipped the horses. They struggled against the mud, their hooves fighting for traction.
“I’m sorry about your family,” Esperanza said to Joseph. She placed one hand on his head and gently stroked his hair.
Joseph looked at Esperanza but said nothing. Tears streamed down his face and a bubble of snot hung out of one nostril.
Lightning flashed overhead and the rain started to fall again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Seth stood at the window in his room, looking outside. His room was completely dark and was lit only by the light that filtered in through the window. After killing the woman in the kitchen he had gone back upstairs to find three people--presumably other guests--eating David’s body. Before they even had time to look up, Seth shot each one of them in the head. He then grabbed a blanket from his room and covered David’s body.
Outside, the rain fell and lightning flickered across the belly of the clouds. From outside his door Seth thought he heard a thump. He turned toward the door, which was barricaded by the room’s bed and dresser and Saul’s body. A little light from the hall crept through the cracks around the door. Seth listened for several long seconds but there were no other sounds. The hallway was quiet.
Seth had thought about going to Trane’s office, but after looking outside and seeing several people attacking each other, he had thought better of it. Instead, he’d decided to wait silently in his room for the dawn and then deal with the situation. If it came down to blasting his way out of Jackson he’d much rather do it during the day, when he could see everything.
Seth took a drink of water from a jug he had grabbed from the kitchen. The street was now quiet, although he occasionally heard gunshots. He shuddered to think of someone out there, fighting against a whole damn town of those things. Still, if they managed to pick a few of them off it’d be less for him to deal with in the morning.
After setting the water jug down, Seth ran his escape plan through his mind. If he was discovered and they tried to get through the door, he would shatter the window, throw Saul’s body through, and climb up onto the roof. As far as he could remember, there was no other way up onto the roof, and hopefully Saul’s body would throw those things off. Seth had no idea how smart they were, but maybe they would think Saul had died trying to escape the room and not even look at the roof.
He glanced at Saul’s body and wondered again for the hundredth time what was going on, what could have done this to so many people. He assumed it was some kind of illness--after all, Saul had a bad fever and was coughing up blood--but it was like no illness Seth had ever seen or heard of. What in the hell killed someone and then brought them back to life? It was impossible, yet it was happening.
Seth returned to the window and waited.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
John landed in the soft mud of the street and looked up at his brother. Paul dropped the shotgun down to John and then jumped off the porch roof, the deep mud cushioning his fall. Lightning flashed in the sky and the brothers instinctively moved closer to the building and into the darkness.
“No sign of ‘em,” John said.
“They’ll be after us soon enough. We gotta figure out what we’re going to do.”
“We could sneak out of town. Try to get somewhere on foot.”
“And then we’d be stuck in the desert with no food or water.”
“I don’t see us having much of a choice.”
Paul moved away from the building and looked up. A dead woman dressed in a bloody Sunday dress was wandering around the roof. Even in the darkness, Paul could see the hungry gleam in her eyes.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Try to stay in the shadows.”
Paul started down the road and moved slowly in an effort to stay obscured by the darkness. John followed his brother, the shotgun at the ready. Behind them two zombies came stumbling out of the alley, their eyes scanning the road. One of them sniffed the air and then walked in the opposite direction, away from the brothers.
Paul reached the end of the building and continued, forced to journey out onto the road by an overturned wagon. Halfway around the wagon he tripped over something and fell face first into the mud.
“Shit!” He yelled.
The zombies turned and looked at Paul and John and began to slog toward them.
Paul lifted himself out of the mud and looked for what had tripped him up. It was a partially eaten man, who had been obscured by the mud. John ran over to his brother and pulled him to his feet. Paul glanced at the approaching zombies. More zombies spilled out of the alley and several more jumped off the roof of the porch.
“We’re really screwed.”
“C’mon!” John yelled.
The brothers took off down the street, wading their way through the deep mud. John stole a look behind them; the zombies were still coming after them, but the mud was slowing them as well. Some of the dead fell down and their brethren simply walked over them, smashing their bodies farther into the ooze.
&nbs
p; Paul took a few more steps and stopped, panting for breath. “Can’t go on,” he mumbled. Behind them loomed a two-story building.
“We have to. They’re still coming.”
They continued on through the rain and managed only a few more yards before several zombies spilled out of a small building and started walking toward the brothers. The zombies were covered in fresh blood and one of them gnawed on a hipbone. John raised his shotgun and fired, striking one of the zombies in the head. It collapsed in a heap and vanished into the mud.
Paul pulled out a revolver and began to fire, but the rain obscured his vision and most of his shots missed their mark. John fired off two quick shots, hitting the same zombie in the chest and the face. He fired again, blowing the right arm off a dead man. The man stopped and looked at the bloody stump that used to be his arm, then raised it to his mouth in an effort to bite into the wound.
The zombies closed in on all fronts.
“I’m sorry about all of this, John.”
“Just keep shooting.”
#
Seth pissed in the corner of the room. From directly outside his window came several gunshots and yelling. After shaking himself dry and closing up his pants he ran over to the window and looked out. Two bare-chested figures stood in the middle of the road, firing their weapons. A huge mass of zombies had them completely surrounded. The rain fell in a torrent and a thin haze of gun smoke drifted along the ground.
“Shit,” Seth said. He picked up his rifle and considered his actions. If he revealed his position he’d be putting himself at risk. But if he did nothing, those boys would be killed for sure.
One of the men outside fell down and the other rushed over and helped him up, firing his rifle at a nearby zombie. Back on his feet, the first man unloaded his revolver into two nearby men.
Seth raised the butt of the rifle to smash out the window and then stopped. No, he wasn’t going to give himself away. His best chance of escaping was to stay put and wait for the morning. He hated the thought of letting those boys die out there, but he had to look out for himself, take a course of action that was going to increase his chances of survival. He pulled his rifle away from the window and watched the two men fight for their lives.
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