Fountain of the Dead

by Scott T. Goudsward

  “Bright, shiny day for a road trip. There any coffee?”

  “Bad thing about the Zombie apocalypse,” Sharon said. “There is no good coffee.”

  “Better not tell Catherine there’s no coffee,” Beverly added.

  “Micah!”

  “Something wrong with the kid?” Williams asked and then stretched his arms over his head. “Sleeping in a car is going to be like the Ritz after the shed. And there’ll be some ventilation.”

  “I can’t find him. I know he was in the house last night,” Sharon said. She started kneading her hands together.

  “The boy is afraid is all, don’t worry, he’s hunkered down someplace. Do I have to go back in the shed or can I walk around for a little bit before I’m forced in the car?”

  “Walk around, see the sights.” Beverly and Sharon wandered off. Pierce jogged over zipping up his fly.

  “What’s up?” For the first time since he’d gotten into the camp, Williams didn’t see any crazy in Pierce’s eyes.

  “Better not get us lost in the swamp, psycho.” Williams wandered to the back of the camp and away from Pierce, found a shaded spot next to a tree and turned on the radio. He looked over his shoulder to make sure the sniper was facing away. “Crowe?”

  “I’m here.”

  “We’re going on a road trip, down to the Everglades.”

  “I am aware of the trip.”

  “Well how the fuck did you know?” Williams’ frustration level was rising.

  “Crenshaw.”

  “Maybe I’d like to know and get some information from you. We’re leaving in maybe thirty minutes.”

  “You know the plan; go with them and report back.”

  “How can I report back? All I was supposed to do was infiltrate this camp, which I did.”

  “Keep your voice down, the sniper is looking.” Williams glanced over his shoulder then moved his hand and pretended to shake and zip his fly. He waved at the sniper. “How can I report in?” Williams looked through the fence trying to get a glimpse of Crowe’s hiding spot.

  “I said I would always be 15 to 20 minutes away.” The radio went dead. There was no engine sounds, no sun reflecting off a windshield. Wherever he was, Crowe was dug in.

  * * * * *

  Sharon glanced around the camp again as the cars’ engines came to life. Not seeing Micah, she climbed into the passenger’s seat of the Monte; Pierce and Williams crammed in the small back seat of the Jeep. For the second time since coming to the compound, tears threatened. Micah was punishing her and he had no idea of the affect on her.

  Catherine rolled down the window in the Monte and gave the signal to roll out. Meredith and Grace opened the inner gate. A barrage of bullets unloaded from the towers when the outer gate opened. The Jeep approached the gates and when fully open, sped off, kicking up a cloud of dirt and debris; the Explorer was next. Beverly blew a kiss to Meredith and they touched hands for seconds on the way from the village. Finally the Monte rolled out of town, Catherine waving to everyone.

  When the gates closed, the gunfire slowed. When their tail lights were gone, people returned to their lives a little excited and a little empty.

  Chapter 5

  “Where are we going?” Pierce asked and fidgeted in the seat next to Williams.

  “We’re going north,” Frank answered. He peered through the windshield as the breeze whipped his hair. Gerry stared out the side of the Jeep watching for patrols.

  “Why?” Pierce asked and inched forward in the seat.

  “Because I want to see the bridge, check out something familiar, before following your crazy ass into the swamp.”

  “But, we’re supposed to be going west.” Pierce said and pointed at the empty road.

  “Speak again before we leave the city,” Frank said “And I’ll drop you off at North Station; you can take the Green Line home.”

  “But...” Frank stomped on the brakes; the tires squealed and the Jeep stopped. The explorer swerved to avoid crashing into them. Frank turned to face Pierce, his eyes nearly bulging.

  “Is there a problem?” crackled through the radio.

  “No Catherine, there’s not.” Frank turned back towards the steering wheel and put it back in gear. Frank followed 93 North towards the city. He stopped on the bridge and stepped out of the Jeep. Most of the bridge had been spared from Night Storm. Now it was loaded with potholes and abandoned vehicles. Pierce went to follow him out, but Williams stopped him with a firm grasp around his arm. Williams stared at his bite marks and shivered. Frank walked to the edge of the lane, waved to the other cars that it was alright. Frank peered over the edge at the underpass and the exits leading deep into the city, remembering a time of baseball and hockey and horrendous traffic jams, a smile spread across his face. He spit off the bridge and watched the phlegm hit the onramp; Frank picked up the radio.

  “Catherine, what do we know of the Garden? I find it hard to believe we never checked it out.” He was answered by silence. “Hello?”

  “There was a concert, the night of the meteor shower. No one survived. Meteors crashed through the ceiling. Whoever didn’t die in the roof collapse was killed in the panic getting to the parking garage or eaten trying to get through the train station.” Frank shivered when the line clicked off.

  Frank drove off in silence. No one spoke in the Jeep; they listened to the hum of the tires against the road. Frank drove expertly around car husks and small packs of the dead. Some tried to follow; others fell under the wheels with a groan and a wet thud. Frank smiled a little, every time he bounced one off the Jeep. At the Route One connector, Frank turned west on to 90 and towards the Mass turnpike. Frank felt under his leg, then looked on the dash; Gerry shrugged at him.

  “Where are the damn maps? I’ll need them once we get into Connecticut.” Frank steered past Berkley and Beacon streets; he looked fondly at them. He waved at the Charles River as they turned off Storrow Drive and went into Allston. He kept a watchful eye on the mirrors for Crenshaw’s patrols.

  “You seem to know these parts,” Gerry said.

  “I grew up north of the city. I used to come in every weekend to see concerts at Avalon and Axis before the street got bought up by House of Blues. I saw the very last show at Avalon before the construction, Dropkick Murphys. I used to play pool at Gillian’s and see ballgames at Fenway Park.” Frank smiled for a moment. “Back then, Green Monster meant something else beside a rotting dead.”

  “If you keep this up, Frank, people will think you’re human and not some wild, killing machine.” Gerry smiled and watched the buildings zip by. “It’s almost like we’re four normal folks out for a Sunday drive.”

  “My grandmother always told me I’d shock the world,” Frank replied.

  “Frank, why do I have your maps?” Catherine asked through the radio.

  * * * * *

  Micah cocooned himself into the blankets in the trunk. He reached into his pack and pulled out the photo book; the pale red glow from the tail lights wasn’t enough to see the pictures. He took out a journal but every letter, every line looked like a bloody sketch. He pulled a blanket tight around him and looked at the photo of him as a boy with his parents and hoped his eyes would adjust to the red glare. He couldn’t really see it, but the image was burned into his brain.

  * * * * *

  Frank stopped the Jeep at the 290 connector.

  “Now what?” Pierce asked.

  “I want to see the sights some more. I can’t see the museums in Boston, that Crenshaw asshole has them locked down. Can’t even get to the libraries.”

  “Is Worcester safe?” Gerry asked.

  “I don’t know Gerry, not sure if I want to find out either,” Frank answered.

  “Then why did we stop?” The rage snapped in Frank. He spun, his fist connecting with the side of Pierce’s head. Pierce slumped in the seat, clutching his skull.

  “If he only knew how much I hate him.”

  “I think he knows, Frank.”


  “Look, I’m along for the ride, if you all are going to kill each other, let me drive.” Williams added.

  “Don’t make me smack you. I like you so far, you’re quiet.” Frank looked at the exit and sighed, then put the car into gear, “Fuck Worcester.” He drove on until Sturbridge and stopped in the remains of a rest area. He watched the other vehicles approach in the mirror.

  The parking lot had a circle of trucks in the middle, like a wagon train warding off Indians. The central building that used to house convenience stores and fast food restaurants, looked like it’d been hit by a missile. The golden arches that once marked the McDonalds doorway were shattered and melted; the main support poles and structure were still intact. The roof had a massive hole in it with scorched edges.

  Beyond the main building were rows of gas pumps, with a cashier’s booth near each one. Abandoned tractor trailers blocked the access to the pumps and most of the road getting out. There was enough room to get the vehicles through on the shoulder. Beyond the lip of the road was a patch of dead grass with the remnants of signs, faded and neglected. The road that led back to the highway was pitted and full of holes.

  Frank leaned forward in the seat and looked out the windshield. He scanned the parking lot and nudged Gerry in the ribs. “I don’t see anything.” The concern was etched onto Gerry’s face. “I mean there should be bodies or spent casings or something.”

  “What are the chances there’s any gas?” Catherine asked over the radio.

  “I’m willing to try the pumps,” Frank said.

  “Me too,” Sam said “besides I need to take the dog out for a spell, let him run.”

  Sharon and Gerry got out of the stopped vehicles. They slung their rifles in favor of pistols and approached the ring of trucks. Frank picked up some rocks from the road and tossed them into the center of the vehicles. The stones clattered off the pavement and rolled away. Sharon shook her head. Frank stopped at the pitted handicap ramp into the building and threw a rock at the glass doors. Still nothing.

  “Have I said how much I hate this?” Sharon asked.

  “Stay tough, kid.” Frank said. “I’d rather make some noise and lure them out to a hail of our bullets than walk blind into a flock of them.”

  “Damn meteors. I miss my canteen truck, life was so much easier,” Sharon said.

  Frank stopped and put a hand over her mouth. She squatted down to looked under the other sparse cars in the lot.

  “What did you hear, Frank?” She whispered.

  “Not sure, but it didn’t sound friendly.” Frank signaled her to stay put and cover him. He walked up the ramp and tried the doors; they were locked. He pressed the handicap door switch, the gears whined and churned but the doors didn’t budge. “The doors are sealed somehow.”

  “Yeah?” Sharon asked. Fear was setting in. Fear for the mission and fear for Micah.

  “It was a 24 hour rest stop. These doors have to be locked from the inside.”

  “So someone could be alive in there?” Sharon clicked the safeties off on her pistols.

  “I don’t know, that rock I threw and the door switch, that should have brought people out. Even if just to check out what was happening.” Frank looked to the doors again, half expectant to see an armed militia charging out.

  “Where can the doors be unlocked?” Sharon asked and let the weight of the guns comfort her.

  “From the convenience store. All of the food places have gates, but the bathrooms and info booths are always open, not to mention the vending machines and video games.”

  “So someone may have locked themselves in. We could forage here, take whatever we can with us,” Sharon said.

  “Or someone locked something inside and climbed out through the hole in the roof,” Frank said.

  “But why block all the pumps?” They both jumped when Sam came over.

  “Looks like they were trying to hunker down in here. Build up a wall out of those trucks. Something happened though, stopped them before they were finished,” Sam said. Frank took a longer look around the parking lot. There was a fenced in dog park near the entrance, the gate hung by a hinge. The remains of a large faded red building stood next to it, the windows blown out and the roof gone. A sign that read “Tourist Info” stood near the stairs.

  “Why are you out here, Sam?” Sharon asked. Sam pointed to his dog running around the lot sniffing.

  “You risked your life so the dog could shit?” Sharon asked.

  “You ever have a dog shit on your upholstery? Besides, if anything is out here with us the dog will warn us.”

  “What’s the story?” Catherine came across the radio.

  “There’s something wrong, I don’t know what,” Frank said.

  * * * * *

  “What is it?” Beverly turned to Catherine as she let the radio slide from her hand.

  “There’s something wrong out there.” Catherine pulled herself forward with the back of the seat and peered out the windshield. She saw the others crouched down near the main entrance. Tony kept his grip tight on the wheel.

  “We’re supposed to sit in the car clueless?” Beverly asked.

  “It won’t do us much good running out and getting killed will it, Beverly?”

  “Sorry, I’m just anxious to get back to Meredith.”

  “It’s only been a few hours, Beverly. We haven’t really started this trip yet.”

  “I’d kill for a cheeseburger,” Tony said from the front. “Toasted Kaiser roll, romaine lettuce some sliced plum tomato, Colby cheese, medium well and a side of beer battered onion rings.”

  “Tony,” Catherine said. “If you had that right now, I’d kill you and take it.” Beverly looked at Catherine. “No, I wouldn’t share either.”

  * * * * *

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. Sam drive the Explorer over here, up the ramp or stairs. I need to get on the roof.”

  Sam whistled for the dog and got back into the SUV. He pulled up the ramp as far as it would go. Frank climbed up on the hood and then onto the roof. Sam tracked Frank’s position by his steps.

  “Little further if you can.” Frank grabbed on to the lip of the sun roof for support. Sam popped the vehicle into four wheel drive and it lurched forward. Frank stumbled and regained his footing before toppling over the side. When close enough, he jumped for the roof and came to rest on the support beam of the shattered remains of the golden arches.

  Frank climbed to the roof and scurried between skylights and air conditioners and heaters. His path was blocked by a gaping hole. There’d been a massive fire, maybe a small explosion. The rim of the roof crater was charred. He crouched down in back of half of a satellite dish held onto the supports and looked over the edge. The center of the area had been cleared out. The security gate to the info booth was down and the “closed” sign was flipped on the convenience store.

  “There’s no impact crater. It’s not a meteor strike,” Frank said into the radio. “I don’t know what happened,” he muttered.

  The dining area for the food court was empty, the tables and chairs upturned or flung to the side. Straws, napkins, and tourist maps littered floor interspersed with blood stains and chunks of old dried flesh and gnawed on bones. Frank took the rifle from around his shoulder and gazed through the scope. He couldn’t see anything through the hazy plastic panels of the info booth door. He moved the crosshairs to the convenience store. Something moved in the corner of his sights. He increased the magnification. But it was difficult to see through the faded adverts on the door. They weren’t here to explore and waste ammo. Recon, get the gas pumps going and get the fuck out.

  The store doors slammed open, crashing against the walls, glass shattered and rained down on the floor. A pack of undead shambled out; they slowed and looked around the area sensing fresh meat. They were tourists, a family in matching faded outfits, a couple seniors in cracked broken sun visors and a truck driver missing an arm. All in various stages of decomposition and bite marks. Frank put an end
to them. A gory pile formed on the floor; brains, bone and matted hair clumps coated the walls around them as they fell. Frank turned away from the scene and he headed back to the Explorer. He climbed down and stuck his head in through the sun roof.

  “Would you mind driving me over to Catherine?” Sam backed the Explorer off the ramp and drove in reverse over to the Monte. Catherine rolled down the window.

  “We heard the shots,” Catherine said.

  “I ended a group of undead tourists inside, something still isn’t right though. I can feel it. But I’m not climbing down into that building.” Frank paused. “I can get down ok, but I don’t know about getting out and I don’t want to be alone in there.”

  “Let’s check those pumps and get out of Dodge,” Catherine said. She shifted in the seat as if Frank’s uneasiness crept into her. Frank slid off the explorer; Sharon, Danny and Gerry joined him. He looked over at the pumps.

  “Go check the doors to the store. If they’re unlocked don’t open them. If they’re locked, run your ass back here,” Catherine said. Frank tried to figure out a plan to get the doors open, run recon, and kill anything that moved and steal everything not nailed down.

  “Be careful,” he called after them. Danny trotted off towards the doors. Gerry stood near the hood of the Jeep ready to fire. Frank and Sharon walked to the first row of pumps; Frank took out the first hose and squeezed the handle, and no fuel came out. Not even a dry sucking noise.

  “The pumps are turned off, there’s no power to them,” Sharon said remembering something. Frank looked at her strangely. “You know how much fuel I went through on my truck?” She walked over to the first cashier booth. “If the place has any power, it’s going to be inside the store.” Something stood inside, a dead hand slapped at the Plexiglas to get at her. She jumped, startled. It was dressed in service overalls, a red cloth jammed in its back pocket. The name tag read “Ray.” Sharon stumbled back and screamed; the side of its face was gone showing ruined teeth and cartilage. She stumbled back, firing wildly, bullets punched through the glass. The dead forced its way through and fell onto the pavement.