He couldn’t tell what reality was anymore. Take the guys he’d seen in the woods the other night, the ones in yellow suits and gasmasks. They’d been carting off dead bodies. He was pretty sure of that and he knew he ought to tell somebody. The problem was, that he just couldn’t recall if it had been before or after he’d seen the giant yellow ducks at Dawson’s Pool. If he told Eastman, he’d be in a rubber room for sure. Eastman had already taken his hunting rifle and truck keys. The only one to have really helped him was his old High School buddy, Tony Firth.
All this thinking had given him an almighty headache and his shaking hand fumbled in his pocket for the cure, but he’d left the hip flask on the table. Damn! He tightly shut his eyes and blew out a long deep breath. He needed to hold it together. He was only a few blocks away from the cemetery; surely he could just make that? Turning the corner, his gaze fell on Barney’s Bar.
Like a beacon in the wilderness he could almost smell the comforting nectar beckoning him. The cemetery was so close... was one drink too much to ask? What if it wasn’t open yet? Bull! Barney’s was always open. One drink wasn’t gonna do any harm, besides it was on his way. Pool drew the back of his hand across his dry lips, tucked his shirt in and crossed the deserted street towards the bar.
****
Elle-May sat on her chair at the nurses station watching Norris Zillman manoeuvre Mrs Bakeman’s wheelchair through the narrow doorway. The whole matter was complicated by Mrs Bakeman’s weight problem and the fact that poor Norris weighed no more than a wet dollar. As the commotion got worse, Elle-May began to wonder what would give out first, him or the chair.
Mrs Bakeman was a woman of colourful language but Norris kept his cool, much to Elle-May’s admiration. What a lousy first day for the guy. The thought had crossed her mind that as the senior nurse, maybe she should intervene but she’d had enough. Any second now that woman would be out of her hair. With one last push, Mrs Bakeman was out of the building and in the charge of her poor husband. Norris swept his thinning hair back onto his head and lent against the hospital doorway, beads of sweat running down his thin, angular face.
“You done well there Norris,” called out Elle-May.
“She was a powerful woman. I never heard cussing like that afore.”
“Don’t mind her none, you’re gonna hear that again. You got her Thursday as well. Now best make yourself useful and make up Bed four.”
As Norris left the room, her face broke into a broad smile. He was going to have to shape up fast if he wanted to work here. She shifted her gaze out of the window and watched poor, worn-out Mr Bakeman struggling to get his wife into the SUV. She was a total contrast to Erin Burke. It was still hard to take in that Old Ben had killed somebody. By all accounts, he blew the creep’s head off. He had it coming though, attacking an old woman like that. Elle-May hadn’t seen the body but the ambulance boys said it was just like the others – rotten. Brad Eastman had given them all strict orders not to go anywhere near the bodies. She wasn’t going to argue. Some things were best left well alone.
City folk always went on about how dull small towns were. Right now she’d be happy with dull. All this was starting to get too much. These murders and other stuff, it was like one of those trashy novels her sister read. Looking on the bright side though, she got to see a lot more of Deputy Jedree Bodien. It was true he was no oil painting and maybe not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was a good honest man and he looked cute in his uniform. She was woken from her thoughts by the loud voice of Nurse Brown.
“Hey, where is everyone? This place is like a graveyard!”
“Hush up there girl, that ain’t even funny. Jill’s on her way in and Anne’s over at Mary Firth’s place.”
“She had another ‘accident’?”
“Yeah, kinda looks that way. I’d love to give that bum a baseball bat in the kisser.”
“Peter Firth is gonna get it someday. Can’t something be done about him?”
“They can’t pin anything on him if she won’t press charges.”
“There’s gotta be other ways to skin a rabbit.”
“Forget it.” Elle-May screwed her face up and clenched her fists. “Benteen already tried that, Brad put his ass on ice. So you see it’s sort of difficult.”
“See what ya mean. So we got another murder in the...”
“Careful how you go there Zoë, Ben did that in self-defence. The creep bit Erin.”
“I didn’t mean...is she okay?”
“She got shook up some but nothing that a band aid can’t fix. I sent her home with some antibiotics. She’ll be fine. It’s just a bite.”
****
It had been several hours since Marv had left them on the track. Britney and Tony had moved Jenha under the shade of a large tree. She was now unconscious. A lone buzzard circled slowly overhead as the fierce sun climbed ever higher; soon the shade would surrender to the ever-increasing temperature. Britney and Tony were out of water; they’d given the last to their friend. All Tony had was his bottle of Bourbon but now all he wanted was some plain water. Both of them were sat next to Jenha, ever watchful for the traffic Marv had said would be using the track. There was also the possibility the mysterious four-by-four would return, which was not such an attractive notion.
“Britney, what if them things got Marv? I mean what if nobody’s coming to git us?”
That unpleasant thought had crossed her mind but somehow she doubted it. Marv was a tough kid and for a geek, he was all right. If anybody would get back, then it would be him.
“If he runs into any of those freaks, I put my money on Marv.”
Just then she caught sight of an old white pickup heading towards them. Both Britney and Tony stood up and began waving frantically to attract attention.
Jill and Al Paxmore were still tired from the previous night. Al had got up early to check for any evidence of unwanted visitors but had found nothing. Stallone was in deep disgrace. None of those dog treats that he adored and loved hiding under the old chair for a month. Now they were heading for town. It was a journey they made almost every day. Today Al was driving; he thought Jill went too fast.
Jill flicked through the radio channels but only the sound of static filled the cab. Suddenly, she called out, pointing at some people in the middle distance. The morning rays had turned the whole desert pink and Al had to squint into the early sunlight, but could just manage to see two figures waving at them.
“I reckon they got themselves some trouble,” remarked Al.
As they pulled up alongside, Jill recognised them as being Britney and Tony. Then as she got out of the truck she could see Jenha, under the tree, lying pale and still.
“Okay,” called Al, “what’s going on here?”
It was obvious by the sorry state they were in that something bad had happened.
Both kids were now in floods of tears as they poured out the events. How could people do such things? While Al was doing his best to calm them and retrieve as much information as he could, Jill went to Jenha. It was clear she was in a desperate way. However, it was the bite that intrigued Jill the most.
Britney had just said the wound had been made only a few hours ago. She must have been mistaken; this wound was at least a week old, thought Jill. It looked bad and smelled worse. She could even feel the heat from the wound. Jill stood up and looked at the two kids; she needed to handle this with delicacy.
“She’s in a real bad way here. We’ve gotta get her to town quick.”
Al could hear the urgency in his wife’s voice and ushered them into the vehicle. “Everybody in the truck, we gotta go now.”
They loaded the kids into the back seats of the truck. Britney and Tony sat either side of the unconscious Jenha. Jill took a bandage from the first aid box and attended to Jenha’s wound, then got into the driver’s seat. It was Al’s turn as the passenger now. Jill knew it was a matter of life or death for the girl. She put her foot down hard and the truck shot forward, leaving a cloud
of dust.
Chapter - Eight
Tony Firth pulled into the long driveway of his mansion, the gravel crunching under the chunky tyres of his BMW. La Fontaine House was the sort of place that most people could only dream of owning. His solid stone, six-bedroom house was set in two acres of pure peace and quiet right on the edge of Armstrong, but it hadn’t always been this way. His great grandpa, Austin Firth, had acquired the land (then a fur trader’s post) from a French trapper, way back.
Over the years the various Firth generations had extended the house and land until it had reached the present size. When Tony Firth’s parents had died he’d inherited the property and bought his brother, Peter’s share. He wanted the family home, the place where he’d grown up more than anything else and nothing would stop him.
Walking up to the oak door he could see his wife Bridget in the front room, in her favourite spot on the leather sofa. She’d been something in her day but now her looks were maintained by cosmetic surgery – the price of the good life. Her family had been a big name in the town, owning both sawmill and lumberyard in the town’s hay day. But with the recession taking hold, profits had gone down; that’s when her father had decided to sell the shares. He died shortly after, leaving her the estate but there’d been that thing with the IRS.
Even Firth had been surprised at how fast she’d gone through the remaining money and now she was broke. Oh yes, she had expensive tastes. Bridget was high maintenance and she liked to spend. He used to joke that all his pay went on Bridget’s shopping trips; truth was that in those days it did. He pushed the door open and went inside.
The interior of the house was as lavish as the exterior. Firth had used as much wood as he could. This was the best American wood that money could buy. Wooden panels encased the living room with ornate stone block columns holding up the ceiling. Above the huge stone fireplace, pride of place was a painting of the current generation of Firths. His eyes fell on Conrad’s face and he wondered where the boy was.
“Well, you got any news, what did Eastman say?”
He looked at Bridget’s plump face with its rose red lips and peroxide blonde hair and pondered what to tell her.
“He wasn’t there. I got to speak to that ape, Benteen. He said we got to wait till Eastman gets back.”
“That ain’t no use to us. We got to get out and look for our boy. Tony, it ain’t safe out there. Eastman should be here, where the hell is he anyhow?”
“Benteen told me he was up at the Burkes’ farm, some kinda trouble there.”
“What kinda trouble?”
He wasn’t in the mood for tact. “Ross Murphy said he saw an ambulance and squad car heading toward there earlier.”
“Tony Firth, you need to get out there and find that boy.”
“Ain’t so easy, when the boy lied where he was going. I went to see the other parents and they got no clue where their kids are at either.”
“I don’t care about the other kids, our boy’s missing…”
“Benteen said they aint regarded ‘missing’ until they’ve been gone for twenty-four hours. That’s the law.”
“To hell with that crap! What you the mayor for, if you can’t look after your own folk? Now git back out there and start mayoring. Damn it!”
The trouble was, she was right and he knew it. All these years of greasing palms and doing favours, half the town owed him some. However, he’d no intention of provoking any conflict with the law. During this situation, that sort of thing could easily be taken as causing trouble for the town and that turn could cost him votes.
Sure he wanted to get out after Conrad but it would have to be done with Eastman, above board and legal. Bridget wouldn’t understand his motives, so he knew he’d have to use some double talk. His whole political career had revolved around saying one thing and doing something totally different. If it was good enough for the suits in Washington, then it was good enough for him.
“Hell, you’re right. I’m going back up there to demand they set up a search team. Yes sir.”
Politics was nothing if not an act, he thought as he walked out the door. But where was that damn kid?
****
As Firth drove down Leonard’s Boulevard toward Main Street he was surprised at just how many people were about. They were queuing outside shops, standing in neat lines from the doors to the sidewalk. Kirk’s Bakery had shut and people were banging on the closed door. People in a panic, just because of a blackout – how dumb was that?
He didn’t miss that darn QVC channel that was for sure; gold jewellery, workout gear, saucepan sets - Bridget lived for all that crap. Bleeding his bankbook dry.
Driving past the shops and townsfolk, he began to think how best he could use the current situation to his advantage. If he could somehow appear as the town’s saviour, it’d guarantee his re-election.
Just then, he caught sight of his brother outside Crowns’ fruit shop. Firth didn’t really want to see him but it was too late to turn off, his brother had already seen him. It wouldn’t do for him to been seen with Peter at the moment because of the mess he was in with Mary. The whole town knew that Peter was a wife beater. But even that wasn’t the real problem. The problem was that his dumb brother made no secret about it and as mayor, Firth found the whole situation embarrassing. Worse still, Peter had taken up with good old Slippery Sally, some tramp who’d seen more action than the US Marines.
None of this helped Firth’s public image. Peter ambled up to Firth’s car and playfully tapped the roof. Firth wound his window down and looked at his brother. He had that look of self-assurance that irritated Firth so much.
“Well howdy big brother, how’s it hanging?”
“Stow it, I ain’t in the mood. Conrad’s missing.”
“Missing? I only spoke to the little shi…I only saw the kid yesterday.”
“Did he say where he was going? I mean, any kinda clue could help here.”
“I know there was a girl involved ‘cause I sold him some insurance. But I don’t know where they were headed.”
“Insurance? What’s my boy want with insurance?”
“Now come on, when a boy goes off with a girl it’s good to have some insurance against any, let’s just say, accidents.”
“Rubbers? They’re just kids, for God’s sake!”
Fortunately for his brother there was now a crowd of people in earshot. It wouldn’t do to make a scene.
“Oh, come on. I did you a favour. I reckon you don’t want any extra additions to the family.”
Peter walked over to the passenger side of the car and got in.
“In case you ain’t noticed I’m in kind of a hurry, so don’t make yourself too comfortable, will you?”
“Look at them, just look at them,” Peter said, pointing to the people in the streets.“Running about buying up everything in sight. The hardware store’s sold out of kerosene and Joe’s put a limit on the batteries folks can buy. What happens when all the stuff’s gone? Who they gonna run to? I’ll tell you. Me, that’s who.”
“Yeah and what makes you think that, Mister?”
“I got me a warehouse full of stuff. Food, gas, tools – you name it, I bought it. I did a deal with Benny Arnold and he gave me a discount too. When the town runs dry, I’m gonna open up shop. ‘Course the price is going up.”
“Sounds good, but what if everything’s back to normal this afternoon? You gonna lose out. You got dead stock then.”
“Like I said, I got a good discount. I’ll make back, even if it takes a while. I thought maybe you’d like a piece of the action…”
“Hold on there, I got an election in two months. I can’t get mixed up in any shady dealings.”
“There’s nothing shady about this. I got receipts for the lot, its legal. All fair and square.”
“Yeah true, but folks are gonna see it as…well, unethical.”
“Hey Tony, remind me will ya, when did ethics ever bother you?”
Firth studied his brother; th
ere was no doubt about it the boy had an eye for a hot deal. Maybe there was a way he could get a share and still keep his nose clean.
“Okay, I suppose I could act as a silent partner but I ain’t bank rolling this and my name stays out of it, you hear me?”
“Oh man, you won’t regret this…”
“Well I’d better not! Look, I gotta get going, we can talk turkey later. Just don’t forget, I’m the silent partner.”
Firth reached over, opened the passenger door and waved his brother out onto the sidewalk. He knew Peter hadn’t offered him a cut through brotherly love alone; he’d needed some financial muscle to broker the deal. If Firth was going to part with cash, then he was going to make sure it paid off. Nothing was for nothing in his book. He looked at his watch; time to give Eastman a call. He started the engine and headed to the station house.
****
Eastman was studying a map of the surrounding countryside. How Firth disliked Eastman. Even as kids they’d never got along. He’d poke his nose in and speak his mind and stand up for folk, even when he’d nothing to gain from it. He was the sort of guy that Firth just couldn’t reach; to Eastman money was just that, money. Even now, sitting opposite him in the sheriff’s office, Firth didn’t get him.
“The thing is,” began Eastman, looking up from the map, “for someone to be reported missing they gotta be missing for twenty four hours. Strictly speaking, these kids got a few hours to go yet.”
Was he just gonna sit spouting the law? His boy was missing – what the hell were a few hours?
“My boy and four other kids are missing right now, why ain’t you looking for them?”
“Hold on there Tony, I said ‘strictly speaking.’ With all this craziness going down and all that up at the Burkes’ this morning, I was gonna say we need to find them and fast. Okay, Conrad told you they were going to the Galway’s place to camp, only that was just a lie.”
Containment: A Zombie Novel Page 8