by Bonnie Dee
“Jesus Christ,” Ashleigh breathed, a sigh of relief, disgust and horror.
I felt sick as a long-haired little kid who might’ve been a boy or girl but was now just an animated meat suit tried to climb on top of the intake head, fell back and disappeared underneath the points. More zombies—men and women, old and young—scattered sluggishly from the path of the harvester. Some of the undead were eating fresh kill, people I’d talked with earlier that day. That made it a hell of a lot easier to steal my nerve and run them over no matter how human some of them still looked.
Up in the high cab, it was like being in the crow’s nest of a ship during a storm at sea as the harvester rolled over bodies. I swerved a little this way and that to take out as many as I could. The cutter bar was doing a fine job of slicing, but the combine had stopped working as flesh gummed up the auger. Nothing came from the exit chute any longer.
The pickup loomed ahead of us. I powered down the throttle and we came to a stop with the points only a few feet from our ride.
Fes jumped from the cab first and ran for the door. He jerked it open, dove in and slid across to the driver’s seat. Ashleigh and I clambered down. Some of the scattered undead were gathering again. Their sheer tenacity made up for their slow awkwardness. Even ones that could hardly stand fought to climb to their feet and find food.
Ashleigh climbed into the truck and I vaulted in behind her. Before I closed the door, Fes hit the gas, the truck roared to life and drove away. As we passed a couple of running people, I recognized Jake’s blood-streaked face. His expression was terrified so I knew he was still living. Besides, people don’t turn that quickly.
“Slow down. We have to help them,” I shouted.
Fes’s eyes were unfocused, the eyes of a cornered animal, but he nodded. He slammed on the brakes, threw the truck into reverse and rolled back toward the people running after us.
Jake and the woman with him, not Maureen, climbed over the tailgate into the back. Fes shifted gears again and shot forward. We continued our search and rescue mission, picking up several more passengers. Some zombies ran alongside too, banging on the sides of the pickup and trying to climb into the back. The people in the truck bed fought them off, slashing and hacking at their faces.
More zombies surrounded us, blocking the front of the truck. Fes revved the engine and pushed them back. “We gotta go now. We’ve saved everyone we could.”
The truck broke through the group of undead, knocking down one and rolling over him with a bump that almost bounced our passengers out of the truck bed. Then there was open ground before us. Fes hit the gas and the tires chewed dirt as he turned onto the road heading back to town.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
I felt jangled like I’d just snorted a line of pure coke. My nerves shimmered and popped. I squeezed my fingers, making fists in my lap to stop my hands from shaking. In the months since the zombie outbreak I’d had some close calls, but today’s was by far the closest. How much longer could my luck hold? Death was on my doorstep. One of these days it would pound through the door with a battering ram and that’d be the end of me.
I glanced at Fes. His straw-blond hair was streaked with gore. His round face was grim and tense. He looked as jittery as I felt and was driving way too fast even for these straight, flat rural roads.
On my other side, Brian was staring out his window so I could only see his profile. Maybe he’d always been raw-boned but his gaunt face suggested he wasn’t eating enough. His eyes were haunted and I suddenly ached to reach out and hold his hand, feel those long fingers wrapped around mine. But I kept my hands to myself. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested and I was supposed to be trying for more self-sufficiency. As nice as it would be to grab onto a man for protection, comfort, support, security or whatever else, it was a pattern I was trying to change.
Durbinville’s ramshackle wall loomed ahead, the buildings of town jutting up behind it. Safety lay inside, or so everyone hoped. I didn’t know if the wall would hold under a full scale attack of a crowd of zombies such as we’d seen in Vegas. But here in the country, the undead were few. There’d probably been fewer than twenty in the field today, although I’d hardly been counting.
“We need to increase the patrols and fortify the wall,” Brian said abruptly. “Wherever these new ones are coming from, this could be just the tip of the iceberg.”
Fes nodded. He hadn’t said anything since we’d driven away from the Wilkins’s farm. For a chatterbox like him, silence spoke volumes. The guy seemed to be at a breaking point, ready to crumble at any moment. What he needed… what we all needed, was some private time to scream or cry or curse or fuck or do whatever else it took to vent our fears before we pulled ourselves together again and carried on.
But privacy wasn’t a luxury we were allowed. A few of the group had already made it back to town and had told what had happened. When we reached the gate, the guard informed us we were to go to the jail where everyone was being quarantined. The council would debrief us and since there were no doctors left in town, a local veterinarian would examine us.
I groaned. “What the hell? Can’t we even get cleaned up first?”
“They have to check us for bites. Can’t let us go if we’ve been bit.” Fes’s voice was hollow and distant. If zombies could speak, they’d sound like that—checked out.
His words reminded me of Jeff. I wondered if the boy was still alive or at least still in one piece. Daylon would be pissed that “his people” had been put in danger today while he’d been safe behind the wall. The man was protective of all of us. He was like a dad trying to keep his kids safe from the very real monsters in the closet.
The jail was a part of the administration complex where we’d been the day before. Local government offices and police station all rolled into one with a couple of holding cells for an occasional Saturday night drunk. Very Mayberry. Right now the jail waiting area held several bloody, beat-up people waiting their turn to get a clean bill of health. The veterinarian was a stocky, middle-aged woman who looked strong enough to handle large farm animals.
Meanwhile, Janice Myers and a couple of members of her council sat at a table in the interrogation room. One by one, as if we were suspects in a crime, we had to go in and tell what had happened to us.
My heart lifted as I saw Maureen was still alive, sitting on a folding chair in one of the two jail cells. The vet was wrapping a bandage around her neck and shoulder. Jake and I both rushed to her. He dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed her hands.
“Are you okay, baby? I tried to find you but I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you behind.”
Her eyes glistened with tears. “We made a pact, remember? When zombies come, run. So that’s what I did. Carl gave me a ride. I didn’t stop to look for you. I’m sorry. But it’s what we said.”
She started to cry and Jake pulled her into his arms. My own eyes stung and I turned away before I could embarrass myself by bursting into tears. But the sweetness of their reunion was short-lived.
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to stay in quarantine,” the vet said to Maureen. “We’ll have to monitor this bite.”
I looked around at the bare bones cell, the thin mattress on the cot and the toilet in one corner. “You can’t keep her here. It takes time for symptoms to show. We can keep an eye on her and if… anything happens, we’ll take care of her.”
I didn’t want to freak out Maureen by bringing up the worst case scenario, but I could see in her eyes how terrified she was at the prospect of infection.
“I’m sorry. It’s our town’s policy.Quarantine is important for public safety.” The big woman looked at me with compassionate eyes that made me want to poke them out with a stick. She probably had that same kindly look when she told some family she had to put down their beloved pet.
“I’ll stay with her then,” Jake said. “I’m not leaving her here alone.”
“This is such bullshit,” I muttere
d, but before I could argue further, one of the council members, the dude who looked like Santa, summoned me for my interrogation.
He ushered me into the room where the Myers woman and the redhead, Nancy, sat. The other council members we’d met weren’t present. The last thing I wanted to do was be cross-examined like some criminal. My clothes were stiff with dried blood and I was shivering from cold and shock. Also, I was mad as hell. Not so much about the way Maureen was being treated since there was logic to the town’s decision to quarantine her. I was mostly enraged by zombies in general and the entire stupid fuck-up that had ruined the world, and I was mad at how, just when I thought things might be getting better, they attacked again. This nightmare would never end. So I plunked down in my chair like a sulky teenager and glared at the council members.
“I’m so sorry for what happened today,” Myers began. “I never would’ve allowed you people to work in the field if I’d had any idea of this new danger.”
Her apology went a little way toward softening me, although apologies were cheap. I could’ve pointed out that I’d noticed that, other than Brian and Fes, no townspeople had been out in that field today. Instead, I nodded.
“We’re trying to get an accurate and complete picture of what happened, perhaps some clue as to where this new influx is coming from. Can you tell us what you were doing when you were attacked?”
I almost rolled my eyes at the obviousness of the answer. “Picking corn.”
“Yes. But where were you in relation to everyone else. Did you notice what direction the creatures came from? Did you have any sense that it was an organized?”
I frowned. “You think they had a plan? They’re fucking zombies.”
“I’m just entertaining possibilities. I’m not suggesting conscious thought but something like an urge to swarm or to hunt together. It’s merely a theory that’s been suggested since they appeared in a group.”
“My theory,” Nancy spoke up. “If they’re capable of organizing, they’re that much more dangerous. We need to know if they can plan even a little.”
“Damn.” The idea of the undead being anything more than mindless robots was alarming. “It didn’t feel like we were being stalked if that’s what you’re getting at. It’s not as if they worked together to surround us or anything. They were just…there all of a sudden.”
I shuddered as I recalled the eerie rustling of the cornfield and the moment when I’d realized the brown jacket wasn’t Brian’s. I quickly told them how I’d been chased and nearly bitten before Brian saved me and then I saved him. I described the scene in the Wilkins’s yard and how we’d cut down zombies with the harvester until we could get to the truck.
“A lot of my friends were killed today and most of that farmer’s family, but I’m still here. That’s about it,” I finished. “Can I go get my physical now so I can leave?”
“Thank you, Ms. …” Myers left a pause for me to fill in my name, but I didn’t bother. I was already out of my chair and heading back toward the holding cells.
“Ashleigh,” she called after me. “We’re only trying to get all the facts. If there is another wave coming, I’ll radio the provisional government in Topeka to send help.”
Her confidence that anyone would come amused me. I thought about Brian’s talk of shifting paradigms. Janice Myers was clearly clinging to the old ways with her trust that government forces would save her town. She was deluded. Time to adjust to the new reality, lady and admit we’re all on our own.
A half hour later, with checkups and interviews over, Fes dropped off Brian and me and the rest of the survivors at Brian’s house. He didn’t even say goodbye before driving away.
I was dragging now, my body so weary I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. But Daylon came out of the house next door, followed by Lainie, and freaked out when he see the bloody state we were in. “What the hell happened?”
“A zombie attack.” Carl filled him in on the details and the lives lost. “Both Marys and George and Ellen Sytek are dead. I didn’t see Dale or Tanesha after the attack so we can assume they’re dead too. Richard’s got a broken arm which the vet is setting. Maureen got bit and they’re keeping her quarantined in jail. Jake stayed with her.” Carl gestured toward me, Aaron and Steve. “We’re all that’s left.”
“Goddamn it.” Daylon glared as if he’d like to rip somebody limb from limb. Since we were handy, he took his rage out by shouting at us as if we’d demanded to pick corn. “Damn it! I shouldn’t have let you go. Did these motherfuckers even post a guard? Was anybody keeping watch?”
“Yeah,” Brian answered. “A couple of the Wilkins women. But the zombies took them out first. None of us was being careful enough. This never should’ve happened.”
“How’s Jeff?” I changed the subject.
“Much better,” Lainie answered. “His fever broke a while ago. I think he’s going to pull through after all. I told you it wasn’t the A7 virus, just a regular flu.”
“That’s great, Lainie. Guess the antibiotics you gave him kicked in.” I smiled at her, glad for this bit of good news to balance the rest of the terrible day.
“I should’ve been with you,” Daylon continued to rant.
“Because you could’ve prevented this from happening?” Carl’s tone was dry. “You’re not God, Daylon, much as you’d like to be.” He stalked past the other man into the house.
I’d had enough talking, enough blame and guilt and accusation. If I didn’t get some peace and quiet soon, I was going to explode. Without another word, I walked toward Brian’s house where a hot shower waited to wash away my tension.
Although I’d only stayed there one night, already the place felt like home. I stripped off my bloody clothes and dumped them in trash can in the kitchen before going upstairs. I turned on the shower, took off my underwear and stepped beneath the steaming spray.
Closing my eyes, I turned my face up and let the water beat against my cheeks and eyelids. My muscles turned to melting candle wax and the knot of fear in my gut eased but my sorrow only increased. I’d lost traveling companions today, some of whom I hadn’t gotten to know well yet like the Marys, others I’d felt pretty close to. Still, I hadn’t allowed myself to care for any of them too deeply. After what had happened to Denny, I’d started keeping an emotional distance from the people I met. Life was too precarious these days to count on anyone being around for long.
Denny. The playback of today’s horror show gave way to memories of my last boyfriend. We’d been dating a little before the zombies attacked. Nothing too serious. We met when I waited his table and he over-tipped me. We had some good times. He was the kind of arrogant male who attracted me like a mosquito to a bug light and usually zapped me in exactly the same way. Our relationship would’ve ended badly for me at some point. Instead, it ended bloodily for Denny.
When the zombies swept through Las Vegas, we were at a bar having a drink. I don’t think Denny would’ve come to find on me if we weren’t already there together. But as it was, we battled through the shit storm together, met Daylon and then headed into the desert.
It was natural that two men as testosterone-fueled as Denny and strong-willed as Daylon would butt heads. They argued over what direction to take. Daylon was concerned about running out of fuel in the middle of nowhere and wanted to follow a route where there’d be an occasional gas pump. I don’t think Denny really disagreed with him. He just didn’t want to be told what to do. As their hostility escalated, it looked like we were going to split and travel on our own. I didn’t want that. I wanted to stay with the group, but my opinion didn’t carry much weight with Denny and ultimately I would’ve gone where he led.
That’s when the attack happened. We were at a deserted gas station in the desert. A blood smear was all that was left of the attendant. In land so flat we should’ve been able to see danger coming, but it was dark and, just like in the field today, a couple of zombies came out of nowhere. They grabbed Denny and tore into him be
fore he could even pull his weapon.
It was obviously too late to help Denny, who was spouting from a main artery, and more zombies were coming so Daylon shot Denny dead to save him pain. I fought waves of nausea as I climbed on the back of Daylon’s cycle and rode away leaving my dead boyfriend behind.
The next town we reached that had a motorcycle shop, Daylon helped me choose a bike that matched my size and taught me how to ride it. Since then I’d never allowed myself to dwell on Denny or what happened that night. But now, as I washed my body and rivulets of pink swirled down the drain, it wasn’t memories of today’s attack that bothered me. Instead I kept picturing Denny ripped apart. His screams as they dismembered him still haunted me. Even after I turned off the hot water and reached for a towel, I was shivering with cold that seemed to come from my very bones.