I thought of grabbing the gun, but he would have just added a pistol whipping to the inevitable "fun" he had planned for me. And there was that inexorable inertia of life that I had seen with Ms. Dresden, and I knew it would keep me conscious during way too much of the beating for it to be a preferable option. Though as Rhodes' stink of years-old sweat stung my eyes and made me nearly gag, I thought that passing out might come blessedly sooner.
The gun barrel slid up my belly, between my small breasts-which I had only just begun to notice in the past year or so; the barrel lingered under my chin, and then he traced my mouth with it. I still didn't feel fear so much as regret, though it was no longer just a feeling that I had failed Fran and Vera, but also a bitterness about my own impending loss-regret that I'd never have children, never hold hands with a boy, never know so many of the meager but precious joys of our world. The thought still wasn't exactly fear, but an intense pang of remorse and worthlessness and hopelessness, enough to make me hiccup a little as I caught a rising sob in my throat.
Rhodes rested the gun barrel on my lips. "Not much of a talker, either. I like that. That's the main thing I don't miss about bitches-all that talk before and after. I can go weeks out there with the boys and not hear ten words. But don't get me wrong-I do miss bitches' mouths. I sure do. You're gonna find that out, so long as you want to stay alive."
All I could do was glare at him. Rhodes took a step back, and I thought maybe his version of "fun" had been postponed. Then he smiled again, and I knew it hadn't. It still surprised me, though, when he kicked me in the stomach. It seemed such an odd gesture-not obscene like his fetishistic poking of me with the gun, and I could tell he hadn't kicked me as hard as he could have, so it wasn't a blow intended to hurt me badly-but as I staggered back, doubling up and choking, it occurred to me what it was. It was how some people could kick a dog, how they would use casual violence to show something smaller and weaker that they were the boss and its pain was only amusement, its needs or feelings as unimportant and worthless as air or dirt.
He bent over me, close enough that I felt the bloody spray of his words on my cheek and ear, smelled the rot of his teeth and whatever vile, diseased thing he'd eaten recently. "I don't think you're old enough to realize what a hard-on I have for you, bitch, but you best learn one thing: that won't stop me from putting your brains all over the ground if you don't jump when I say jump. Now get up and let's get going."
Once I'd stood, he shoved me out the door, then stepped up behind me and shoved me again, so that I fell on the hot, dry dirt in front of our wrecked cabin. I landed on my knees and fell forward, catching myself with my left hand. I stayed there, panting with rage and humiliation. Bart's punch must've cut my face a little, because blood mixed with my sweat and ran down to the tip of my nose. Three long drops fell into the dust, turning it an ugly, loveless brown.
Chapter 16
Will moved fast down the other road, following the tire tracks, as Lucy and I struggled to keep up. He gave us a second to catch up. "I don't have time to take you back to your place," he explained. "And I don't want to leave you out here by yourselves. Someone might see you and shoot you, or even other zombies might attack you. So you've got to follow me. And do what I say. I don't know what's going on, but I think it's bad. So just follow me and be careful."
We kept following the road. Up ahead a fence led off as far as I could see to the right and the left. But straight ahead, a section of the fence had been removed. The tire tracks were a jumble there. They went off to either side, along the path of where the fence had been, and they also continued along the road we had been following. The fence itself was lying on the ground, the support poles bent over.
Will said, "It's like they just drove along the fence with a big vehicle, crushing it as they went, like they just wanted to destroy it for no reason. Then they went back to following the road." He looked at us. "There are good people down there. This time of year there are lots of kids out there, too. They're all armed and careful, but the farms are spread out, not close to each other. And they're not expecting people to attack them, only zombies. I need to help them. Can you keep up and help me if I need you?"
I looked to Lucy and we both nodded immediately. Will had been so nice to us that, as frightening and unexpected as all this was, I couldn't imagine refusing his request for help, especially if people were in danger. I still couldn't conceive of what might be going on, but we followed him regardless. When the road and tracks turned slightly to the left, we kept going straight into some trees. Lucy and I had a hard time negotiating the roots and branches in our way. "It's not much farther," Will whispered. "Stay quiet."
I heard voices off to our left, and we moved more slowly until we were at the edge of the forest, looking out on an open area. I couldn't tell exactly what had happened there, but the way the people sounded and looked, it seemed clear that they were being uncaring and violent in ways I couldn't understand or imagine.
There was the wreck of a building in front of us. Two big, wooden poles held up the right side of the building, though the poles had bent over and the house had tilted so far to the left it touched the ground; the stilts on that side stuck out from under the building, connected by a large chain to a dump truck. The truck had a snowplow, and sticking out of the back on a pole, a white flag rippled in the breeze. I could make out two wavy blue lines down the middle of the flag. On one side of the blue lines was a red handprint, and on the other a red sun.
More telling and alarming to me were the people I saw. Among them were two girls. The smaller of them was sitting on the ground, and the larger girl was on her hands and knees. Oddly, the bigger girl was bald. Further from where we stood, there was a tall, blond woman with her wrists tied behind her to the back of the dump truck.
Both the girls and the woman appeared to be hurt, especially the bald girl. She breathed hard and her face was bleeding. A man stood near her, holding a pistol. He didn't seem the least bit concerned with her injuries, and he made no move to help her.
Two other men came out of the house, carrying things to the truck. They ignored the two girls, but stopped a moment to maul the woman in a gross and sexual way. Though I couldn't make out what they were saying, I could see her kick and struggle as they pawed her and laughed. Then they went back into the house. I assumed they were getting more things, whatever the things were.
"I don't think they've killed anyone yet," Will whispered, "but those men are going to start hurting those girls soon. I don't know if you remember what men like that do to girls, and I know that zombies don't do that kind of thing, but it's a very bad kind of hurting, believe me.
"I'm going to circle around to the back of the house, because if I shoot from here they might be able to make it to the house or the truck before I can get them all. I only see the one gun, but they may all have them, and I'm sure they have more in the truck. You two just stay here. Don't come out, don't make any noise. I'll come and get you when it's done. If I don't, then just run back the way we came."
All we could do was nod. I felt so sorry we couldn't do more.
Will disappeared off to the right and I returned to watching the people. After hauling out another load of stuff, and after another round of pawing the woman tied to the truck, the two men joined the one holding the gun in front of the house.
"That's just about everything," one of the scavengers said. "These people don't seem to know how to live much. No booze, no weed, not much food-just a bunch of books and guns."
The man with the pistol nodded. "Yeah, some people's priorities are all ass backwards. They got a generator? I didn't see any vehicles."
The third man nodded. "They had some diesel for a generator. Dickhead here said I could have dibs before him if I was the one to siphon it." He spat. "Shit always burns your mouth like hell."
The other two men laughed, and the gunman said, "Yeah, well, he likes to watch anyway. Gets him all worked up for his turn. I figure we got a little time to break these
bitches in right before we get a move on. So, ladies, nice little place you have here. We don't usually get up this way, but pickings have been getting a little thin. I'm sure glad we came." He ran the barrel of his gun across the back of the neck of the bald girl on the ground. "We're real sorry we broke your little tree house, but we were afraid you might not welcome us with open arms-or legs."
More laughter, low and dry.
"That's a real big fence we passed on the way here, so there must be more of you people around. I was wondering if some of them might be coming by?"
"They're supposed to drop off supplies this afternoon," the woman tied to the truck shouted. "Real men, not some pieces of shit who beat up little girls."
The man with the gun smiled. I couldn't imagine mine looked worse, his was so ugly, and I didn't sense any happiness behind it. "Funny how people who don't know how to live right don't know how to lie good, either. Just got to take our chances, I guess. Oh, and I can be as gentle or rough as I need to be, you big, Amazon bitch. My new special little friend here is the one that likes to play really rough. Aren't you, baby doll?"
The girl on the ground didn't respond. The blonde shouted again. "A real man would want to get off with a woman. Or are you too embarrassed for me to see what a dickless piece of shit you really are?"
I think she was taunting them to distract them from the two girls. Like Will, she seemed very brave. I wondered how everyone in his community could be so good, and I was embarrassed at my own inaction and fear.
The man with the gun looked over to the woman. "Yeah, big bitch, I'm sorry you'll have to settle for one of these two sorry-ass bastards the first time, but your little friend here gave me such a hard-on, being all hot and feisty and fighting back. That was quite a show she put on in there. And you and her killing three guys kind of makes things work out perfect now-three of you, three of us. No lines, no waiting."
A chuckle from the other two men and they nudged each other.
The man with the gun stepped toward the younger girl sitting on the ground. "Of course, we don't want to leave you out either, sweetheart. Little half-nigger might be fun." He turned to the other two men and gestured at the seated girl with his gun. "You're so right that these people's priorities are all messed up-no booze or fun, ladies out by themselves with no respect for men, folks mating with niggers. Damn, what a world."
All three men shared in the laughter now, letting it rise in pitch and intensity.
The girl he was taunting stood up and glared at him. It seemed forever that she decided what to do next, but then she slapped him and spit on him.
"Don't!" the blond woman shouted. She'd managed to get partly to her feet and was straining against her bonds.
The bald girl on the ground also let out a rasping protest as she got up on one knee and one foot and started to stand.
The man with the gun grabbed the wrist of the girl who was slapping him. "Oh, boys, I am so glad we came up this way!" he laughed. "I didn't think there were three bitches with this much spirit left in the whole damn, zombified world! Now we just got to get them to mind!" He twisted the girl's wrist behind her back, making her howl with pain, then he shoved her away. When she faced him again, he kicked her in the stomach, doubling her over. Then he turned to the girl who was standing up. He didn't kick her; he just put his foot on her chest and pushed until she fell down.
I heard the shot then. The man with the gun spun around and dropped to his knees next to the bald girl. Blood spread out from his left shoulder, but he began to get back up.
Will emerged from the bushes to the right of the house, walking forward steadily-not running, just marching with his arm stiff and steady in front of him, sunlight glinting off his gun. His arm barely flinched as he fired again. This shot hit one of the other men, and as he fell, brains and blood sprayed from his head.
I hadn't remembered such blood and fleshly destruction since the woman we had attacked in the city years ago. I wondered why other people like me didn't bleed so much, and I could only stare in wonder as this man's life eased out onto the dirt. I could never have imagined anything so wondrous, like I was staring at the deepest mystery in the world, laid bare even as it was rendered useless and irrelevant. Maybe it wasn't the ability to speak that made these people so different and more powerful than us, and that gave them the ability or the right to lock us up. Perhaps it was because they had this ability to bleed and suffer, and to make others suffer in such exquisite and horrible ways. Even though I had just heard the men saying such terrible, evil things, I could feel no joy or satisfaction at what I saw.
The man with the gun and his friend ran away from Will in different directions, the former towards the woods where we were, the latter towards the truck. Will fired again and the man running toward the truck fell, the blood spreading out beneath his motionless body. The gunman pulled the bald girl up by her shoulder and dragged her into the trees and bushes right by me. Will fired at him but missed.
I didn't think. I'm sure if I had, I wouldn't have done anything but stand and watch. I suppose I just reacted. I lunged at the man, seizing his left arm. He was startled at first, and let go of the girl. She scrambled off to my right as he and I struggled. He was much quicker than me, and I thought for sure I was going to die. He brought his gun up, and I grabbed at it before he could fire. The man clutched my neck, but I had both my hands on his gun hand, so I was able to hold on to it, even though he seemed stronger than I was.
From out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucy move up slowly and deliberately on my left. She was still so graceful, gliding into view as she raised her tiny hand above her head. The man saw her and released his hold on my neck to pull away from me, but I was still holding his arm.
Lucy hit him in the head with a large rock, one a little bigger than my fist. He dropped his gun and staggered to the side as I let go of him. Lucy stepped in front of me without a sound and hit him again. He turned, fell on his face, and she immediately dropped onto his back and kept bringing the rock down, flinging blood onto the bushes next to her with each upstroke. She continued until the rock came up with dirt on it, as well as blood, and the man's head was an unrecognizable pile.
The girl watched us from a few feet away. She looked more surprised than scared, but she also looked ready to run if Lucy or I made the slightest movement towards her.
Will came through the trees and bushes. He backed slightly away from Lucy and got between her and the girl. "It's okay now," he said. "It's okay, Zoey."
The girl stood up. "They killed him. But then they just stopped and stared at me. What's wrong with them, Will?"
"Some of them are smarter than others," he said. "These two are especially smart, and they don't want to eat people."
Lucy cast aside the bloody rock. She reached into the remains of the dead man's skull and came out with a long, wet mass that she raised and stretched till it snapped off in her hands. She seemed nearly oblivious to the rest of us now.
"Well, not so much, at least," Will said. "She's much more coordinated than other zombies, but I guess she still likes to eat some of the time. He doesn't eat at all and he can even read. They understand you when you talk. I think they understood what these guys were going to do and they wanted to stop them. And, well, now she's a little distracted with eating him. I mean, it's not like they're perfect."
Lucy had her face in her hands, chewing at the wet, spongy mass.
The girl watched her for a moment, frowning. "Not perfect? Will, she's eating a guy's brain right in front of me."
"Yeah, but he deserved it."
The girl paused, then nodded. "All right. You have a point."
I bent down and picked up the dead man's gun. I was afraid of it because I didn't have Lucy's dexterity, so I scooped it into my palm, the barrel pointing off to the right. I stepped around Lucy, who had reached in for more to eat, and very carefully presented the gun to the girl. She watched me intently the whole time I was moving.
"Thank you," she
said as she took it from me. "Thank you for saving me, too. You could've been killed. Well, you could've been shot, at least. That was very brave of you."
I nodded. It felt good to be called brave, even if I didn't think I deserved it. I wondered if I'd ever been called that before, when I was a professor. I doubted it.
"You two stay here," Will said to me. "I'll come back for you." To the girl, he said, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell the others about these two. I don't know if people would like having them out of their holding area."
"Sure," she replied as they walked back out to help the others. She kept watching me as they left.
They got the other girl off the ground, then went and untied the woman. I could see them getting stuff out of the back of the truck. Then they all walked to the front of the house, where I could hear their conversation, and see that they had retrieved a lot of guns from the vehicle.
"It was total chance I found you guys," Will was explaining. "I was out past the fence and saw the tire tracks and I didn't think it was right, so I followed them here." They paused to survey the carnage. "Awful." He looked over at the big truck. "What's that flag?"
The woman looked over at the truck too. "I don't know. They weren't much for conversation about themselves, just talking about what they were going to do to us, the sick bastards. Maybe it's the flag of their group or tribe or whatever the hell these animals were a part of." She nudged a body with her foot.
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