“Pretty much,” Kevin said.
Derek fiddled with a zit on his left cheek. He still held the rifle in his right hand. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Okay,” Fred said, rolling his eyes. “Just checking.”
“It’s a viable solution.”
Becky was in the passenger seat, her head leaned back into the headrest, eyes closed. Ryan said, “Napping?”
She answered him without opening her eyes. “I feel like I haven’t slept for a week, but I’m afraid I’ll never be able to again. Not after this.”
“We’re heading into the homestretch,” Ryan said. “It’ll be all over by morning.”
“But over for who?”
“You can’t think like that. It’s a little unbelievable, but we’ve got a sound plan. I think it’ll work.”
Becky opened her eyes. She raised her head from the backrest and stared out the window, watching the yellow centerline. “What if it doesn’t, Ryan? I’m trying to be optimistic, but after everything I’ve seen today, it’s hard. I just don’t see things…having a good outcome. Can you really say you do?”
Ryan found that he could see a positive outcome if he focused hard enough, but it was a dim and fuzzy image compared to the alternative, which seemed all too easy to imagine. It was difficult to comprehend what they were about to do. But no more difficult than it is to believe every other thing that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, he thought.
“I’ll tell you what I see,” Ryan said. In the back of his brain, he knew he might be going a little too far, might be pushing it, showing his cards too soon, but he told himself none of that really mattered now. If there was ever a time that he didn’t have anything to lose, this was it. “I see the two of us. Married. Big house with the white picket fence, maybe on a few acres in the country. Drinking iced tea on the porch. Two kids, a boy and a girl. An overweight German Shepherd.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“All that on a cop’s salary?”
“Well, you’d be working too.”
“I see.”
“And the house is a wedding gift from your father.”
Becky giggled. “Ha! Now I know you’re full of it.”
“Okay, so maybe it’s an alternate reality.”
“But in this alternate reality, we’re happy?”
“As happy as two people can be.”
“It sounds nice.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Ryan said, feeling a lump form in his throat. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel to keep his hands from shaking. “Assuming we make it through the night, tomorrow I’m going to propose to you. And you’re going to say yes.”
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Just like that? You’re not even going to think about it?”
“I don’t need to. If you can keep us alive until tomorrow, then I’ll marry you.”
“Your dad’s going to be pissed.”
“He’ll get over it,” Becky said.
“There’s the daddy’s little rebel I fell in love with.”
Becky was smiling as she stared out the window.
Ryan said, “You’re being serious, right? You’d actually go through with it?”
“I said I would.”
Ryan took his right hand off the wheel and held up his pinky finger. “Pinky swear?”
Becky curled her pinky finger around Ryan’s. “I pinky swear.”
“I’m gonna barf,” Fred said. “Fuck, Carver, do you pee sitting down, too? Move over, I’ve gotta do something before you actually grow a pussy.”
Ryan chuckled. It had been a long time since he had heard Fred talk like that. Fred was crude most of the time, that hadn’t changed, but the way Fred had said it reminded Ryan of the Fred he had known back when they were in high school.
Fred took the mix tape from his pocket, loaded it into the truck’s cassette player, and turned up the volume knob. AC/DC’s Highway to Hell blasted from the truck’s overhead speakers.
As they approached the downtown area, Ryan turned the cassette player’s volume down. They couldn’t take any chances; they only had one shot at getting this right. He drove up the same street they had taken earlier, but this time approached from the side rather than going around the block.
The convention center’s doors were scratched and chipped. They didn’t look like they could take much more. Much longer, Ryan thought, and they’ll have dug their way right through them. He thought about all the people inside. How much of the town was in there? A hundred? Two hundred? A thousand?
He could imagine them stuffed in there liked canned sardines, the only face that was clear in his mind was Peggy’s because he knew for a fact that she was inside. Probably Cindy, too.
“Is it just me, or are there more of them now?” Rhonda asked.
Kevin said, “Maybe we should split up.”
“What would be the point of that?”
“In case they don’t all take the bait. Or if stragglers show up. You can see as well as I can those doors won’t hold much longer regardless of what they’ve done to reinforce them from the inside.”
Ryan thought it over. He didn’t like the idea of splitting up, but Kevin had a point. If not all the zombies took the bait, they needed someone on the ground to keep them from getting into the convention center. It was also insurance that somebody would be left if the plan failed. “Are you volunteering?”
“I guess so.”
“Then I’m staying too,” Rhonda said and smiled at Kevin.
Derek said, “Me too.”
Ryan nodded. “That puts us in even groups. Let’s just be clear on what your job is. Stay out of sight and make sure none of them get into the convention center. I don’t want any of you playing the hero. If something happens, if the plan goes to shit, I’ll call Kevin on his cell.”
“And if that happens?”
“Then we’ll have at least bought you enough time to evacuate everyone in there. Get them out, then call the military.”
“Sure, because I’ve got them on speed dial,” Kevin said.
“Then use 411,” Ryan said. “We need to keep this contained. If this thing spreads, it won’t matter what we do. It’s game over. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen. It starts and ends right here. In Trudy.”
“Bad hero speech number two,” Fred said. “You’re full of them tonight.”
“Be careful,” Ryan said.
“You too.” Kevin opened the truck’s back door and jumped down. Rhonda and Derek followed after him. They stuck close to the buildings, ducking down behind a car parked half a block from the convention center.
Ryan turned the truck around and drove toward the convention center in reverse. Fred opened one of the back doors, sat down, and held it open with his foot. He pulled the trashbags full of brains close to him.
“What should I do?” Becky asked.
“Keep him covered.”
Ryan backed the truck up to the convention center, stopping when they were close enough to smell the stench of decaying flesh. Fred opened one of the trash bags, reached in and pulled out a pig brain. He didn’t care for its moist and springy texture. He lifted it over his head and threw it, launching it out of the truck as though he were passing a basketball. It made a wet thud when it hit the street.
At first, nothing happened. I knew it, Fred thought. They could give a shit less about pig brains. But then he watched as the zombies at the rear of the crowd began to twist around, their heads tilted upward as they sniffed at the air.
“Brainsss,” one of the zombies hissed, its one remaining eye locking onto the brain where it lay on the street. Others followed.
“Crank the music,” Fred said.
Ryan hit the play button and Boy George’s rendition of The Crying Game poured from the speakers. Ryan craned his head around to look at Fred. Fred stared back guiltily. “What? It’s a classic,” he said.
The zombies came toward them. First the rear peeled awa
y from the larger group, and then the ones that were closer to the convention center followed.
“Let’s roll,” Fred said and tossed another brain onto the ground as the truck began to move.
Chapter 20
Kevin, Rhonda, and Derek were crouched down behind a parked vehicle, watching as the ice cream truck lumbered forward, the zombies following after it as the occasional brain would catapult from the back of the truck and plop onto the ground. A full fifteen minutes passed before the legion of zombies was fully out of sight.
“It actually worked,” Derek said.
The street was empty again. Kevin hadn’t expected his plan to work quite as well as it did. In the distance, they could still hear the faint sound of Boy George asking if someone really wanted to hurt him.
Cautiously, they remained hunched down and made their way closer to the convention center. They were several feet from the front doors when Rhonda said, “Look!” and pointed a finger to the south.
“Stragglers,” Kevin said. Only three of them at first, shambling toward them. As they came closer, several more zombies came stumbling around the corner from the intersecting street.
“What should we do?” Derek asked. He dropped to one knee, rifle at the ready, eye pressed up against the scope.
“Don’t panic,” Kevin said. “We can take them.”
Derek fired. The first shot went low, hitting one of the zombies in the neck with enough force to spin it around and send it sprawling to the sidewalk. It pushed itself up and began moving forward again.
“Take the shot, Derek.”
Derek fired again. This time, the bullet hit its mark, striking the zombie square in the forehead and creating a ragged hole large enough to see though.
Kevin and Rhonda began firing shots as the zombies got closer. Kevin brought up his handgun, aimed, squinted his eye, and – froze. He had the female zombie in his sights. She was attractive despite her condition, relatively intact except for a nasty gash in her upper thigh. She was skinny, wearing a white g-string and a t-shirt that stopped just above her belly button. He hesitated and lowered the gun. “Angela?”
Rhonda stopped firing. “What?”
“It’s Angela.”
“As in your ex-girlfriend Angela?”
And then all the memories came rushing back. In that moment, Kevin forgot about everything else. The rest of the world fell away, and it was only him and Angela, just like the old days. He remembered the first time they had met, the first time they had kissed, the first time they had fucked (which came only minutes after that first kiss), and how he had spent an entire semester with his head spinning, unable to focus on his classes because he had fallen instantly in love. His first true love. He had given his heart away without giving it a second thought. He also recalled how he had called Ryan to tell him the news and finished by saying, “Small world, huh?” And Ryan told him to be careful, take it slow, make sure he knew what he was getting into. Kevin had agreed, but in the back of his mind had been thinking of how Ryan was always cautious, careful about everything, had become straight-laced ever since he had started working in law enforcement. Fred had put it less delicately, asking Kevin if he had forgotten about Angela’s reputation in high school. “She was kinda a slut, bro, only minus the ‘kinda’ part.”
Of course, all of their friendly advice had fallen on deaf ears. Because Angela had changed. She was a sweet girl, his angel, his soulmate. Sure, maybe she had been a little promiscuous in high school (euphemistically speaking), but that had been a phase (the way collecting Thundercats action figures when he was twelve had been a phase), and she was totally different now.
Then reality crushed in on him. She had, in fact, been all of those things, but she had also torn his heart out; caused him a severe and tangible pain that had stuck with him. He’s my soulmate – the words echoed in his memory. She had completely destroyed him with that simple declaration, and somehow she had expected him to be okay with that; explained it as though it was the work of Fate or the Hand of God or some other powerful deity, and they were all helpless to do anything about it. No use squabbling with destiny. Didn’t she know that from that moment forward she had ruined him, made it impossible to look at women or relationships with the same innocent eyes he had looked upon her with? Didn’t she know she had really fucked him up in the head?
“Kevin?”
It was Rhonda’s voice that snapped him out of his trancelike state. The zombies, including Angela, had gotten closer. Derek shouldered the rifle, pulled out a Beretta and started firing again, picking zombies off until Zombie Angela was the only one left standing.
Rhonda brought up her gun and aimed it at Angela, ready to pull the trigger.
“Don’t,” Kevin said.
Rhonda waited, but kept her finger on the trigger. In the last ten seconds, two things had taken her by surprise: the first was the realization that she had feelings for Kevin, stronger and deeper than she had been aware of. The second, which she had realized after Kevin hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of his ex-girlfriend, was that she was jealous of a zombie. You have a tendency to fall too fast and too hard. That was a bit of her mother’s wisdom, the one person who had always been there in the aftermath of a bad breakup; she had handled cleanup duty with empathy and tenderness, but by Rhonda’s senior year, even Rhonda knew that her mother had grown weary of picking up the pieces of her daughter’s oft-broken heart.
Too fast and too hard strikes again, Rhonda thought. Same mistake every time. Trumped by a zombie.
“She’s not your girlfriend anymore,” Rhonda said.
“I know that,” Kevin said. “She’s the heartless bitch that broke my heart. That’s why I’m going to be the one that blows her brains out.”
Rhonda smiled, more than a little relieved, some of her confidence restored. Maybe you got it wrong this time, Mom.
Derek said, “Fuckin’ A, boss!”
Kevin took his time. He unshouldered the shotgun and pumped in a fresh shell. He waited. Angela staggered forward on legs as stiff as boards. She tottered slightly, her eyes on Kevin, mouth bobbing open and closed, blood and drool dripping down her chin. She’s singling me out, Kevin thought. Wonder if she remembers me.
For a moment, he felt sorry for her, and almost lost his nerve. She may have been a bitch, a slut, and a destroyer of hearts, but did she really deserve this? To have died horribly just to come back as one of the undead?
But sympathy was a fleeting emotion. Goddamn right she does!
When Angela was close enough, Kevin shoved the end of the shotgun’s barrel into her open mouth, tilted it at an angle, turned his head away, and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang in his ears. He felt blood and brains splatter against the side of his head and neck, heard the dull thud of Angela hitting the ground. He opened his eyes and stared down at her body. Most of her head had disintegrated; only her lower jaw remained.
Kevin stared at Angela’s corpse for a long time. He had expected to do a happy dance after he had killed her, but was too shocked by what he had done to go that far. “How’s that for closure?” he said, stomping down on the little that remained of Angela’s head.
From beside him, Rhonda said, “Is this how you treat all your ex-girlfriends?”
“Only the ones that break my heart,” Kevin said.
“And that are zombies, too, right?” Derek said. “Right?”
“Yeah…those ones too.”
Chapter 21
The oil refinery loomed before them like a sprawling futuristic kingdom with its many lights, cylindrical tanks, iron walkways, cooling towers, and smokestacks. Thick clouds of smoke billowed up into the cold night air. A solitary flame, perhaps six feet high or better, glowed brightly above the tallest column. The snow was coming in large, sticky flakes that clung to the asphalt as they reached the ground.
Paradise City by Guns N’ Roses piped from the truck’s speakers.
Ryan divided his time between paying attention to the slick road and
Fred seated in the back of the truck, one booted foot holding the back door open as he flung brains onto the concrete, making a game of it now, seeing how close he could get them to land to the yellow centerline. Becky stood behind Fred, one hand clinging to a metal rail for support, the other wrapped around the handle of her gun.
Up until now, Ryan had always looked at the refinery (usually from a distance) as an eyesore. A city unto itself, both exclusive and self-reliant. After thirty years in the same town, he discovered he knew relatively little about what went on there. He knew people that worked there, knew they came home from work dirty and covered in grime, and that it provided some of the highest paying jobs in the county. He also knew that if the wind was moving in the right direction, it could cause a hell of a stink.
Little by little, they had put distance between themselves and the zombie horde. The zombies trailed behind by a quarter mile, and Ryan was doing his best to increase that lead in careful increments. At least a thousand zombies trailed behind them, a living mass of death that was nearly swallowed by the darkness when Ryan glanced in the truck’s side-mirror. He couldn’t get too far ahead without the risk of losing their attention, but once they reached the refinery, they needed the time to do…
What are we going to do when we get there? he thought. How do we blow it all up?
He shoved the thought to the back of his mind, focusing on the task at hand, which was making it to the refinery with the zombies in tow.
Two of the 30-gallon trash bags were empty. Fred was pulling brains from the one remaining bag, doing his best to space them out.
Ryan turned the volume down on the truck’s stereo and said, “We’re almost there.”
“Good,” Fred said. “Cuz we’re running low on brains.”
“When we get there,” Ryan said, “what do we do? What do we use to blow it up?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“No.”
“Everything. Almost anything in there is combustible. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Remember that scandal last year? Made all the papers. They’ve been letting the place go to shit. I can’t remember how many violations the inspectors found, but it was a lot. Slapped them with a whopper of a fine. They might have corrected some of the problems, but I’ll bet dollars to jelly doughnuts those tight asses will put that stuff off as long as they can.”
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