Firth placed the back of his hand across his mouth and drew in a sharp breath. Then without taking his eyes from the scene, he said to the others: “Somebody’s gonna have to get down there and take a look. Any volunteers?”
“It ain’t going to be me,” barked Murphy, moving swiftly away from the edge, vigorously shaking his head.
Firth looked around at the others. There were no takers; his gaze fell on Lee.
“George you up to that?”
“Yep.”
Billy Boy watched as Lee made his way down the dangerous slope. He guessed most folks would have needed a rope but not Lee. He held his rifle in one hand while using the other to balance. With his back-pack slung over his shoulders he may as well have been walking on the road. Billy Boy admired Lee and considered him almost kin; in many ways they were. He knew the others measured them as white trash. Billy Boy lived in the tiny trailer park outside town and Lee lived in his mountain shack some place in the hills. However, that’s where the resemblance stopped.
These guys were following Lee about like lost kids. This was Lee’s environment and they needed him to survive. Even Firth had done as he’d been told and shut up. How Billy Boy wished he was like Lee.
It seemed to the others that Lee had taken an eternity, but now he was making his way back up to them. Stepping onto the road, Lee stood in front of Firth, raised the peak of his US Marine cap a few notches and fixed Firth with a grim stare.
“What you find George?”
“The guy’s been dead for days. There’s just one body and that’s a girl. Don’t know where the rest of her is but I found this.” Lee held up a small yellow knapsack with a teddy bear motif printed on it and handed it to Firth.
“What’s this George?”
“I reckon Mayor you the only one here with the authority to open this.” He pushed the blood-spattered bag at Firth and stepped back a few feet.
Gingerly, Firth took the tattered bag from him. Then he turned the yellow bag around in his hands and slowly opened it. The tag inside read Ruby Carson. He looked at the others.
“Ruby Carson. It’s Ruby Carson’s.”
Firth dropped the bag to the ground. Out of the five kids that were missing it looked as if at least two had met with a grisly end. Firth thought of the twisted remains on the rocks and the likelihood that the other body was Ruby Carson. His gut churned as the notion struck him that Conrad could have met the same fate. He had to find him; the others would have to help.
“Okay, there’s still some daylight hours left, let’s get going.”
Firth marched up the road with no real clue of where he wanted to go, but he had to do something. Then he stopped abruptly as he realised no one had followed him. He turned to face the group and stared at them, waiting for someone to speak first.
“Tony, enough already! We’re all going back. It’s gone beyond looking for some missing kids. There’s some damn nut up here killing people. We need the law for this.”
“McDowall’s right,” Hardman agreed. “In case you haven’t noticed, George is the only one packing artillery here. This is way too dangerous. We need our guns.”
“Yeah, screw that. I ain’t going no further,” said Murphy, moving towards Hardman and McDowall.
“Whatever! Fine. I don’t need none of you anyhow.”
Firth threw his arms up in disgust and walked up to Lee.
“George, I gotta ask...”
Lee held up his hand and shook his head. Sure, he felt sorry for the Mayor but McDowall was right, things had changed. This was no place for town folks. The others were all done in. They had no water and no clue.
Yeah, he could carry on, maybe even find the boy or this creep, but it was the law’s job not his. They had the tin stars, not him. Whoever had done this was one nasty SOB. He’d killed at least three people and Lord knows what had happened to the other kids. It was just as well not to think about that for now. But there was a whole bunch of stuff that just made no sense.
Why were the soldier boys at the camper and what about the guy on the rocks? He looked like he’d been dead a while, then why hadn’t any critters had a go at him? He decided that he’d have to get this bunch home and then he’d come back with the law.
“Sorry Mayor, you and the boys here ain’t up to it.”
“Tony, we want to find them kids just like you but we can’t stay no longer. We ain’t leaving you up here neither.”
McDowall walked up to Firth. “You’re coming with us even if I gotta drag your sorry ass back.”
“No need of that,” said Lee, pointing behind them. “We got us some company.”
The group turned to look in the direction of the old track leading to town. A small convoy of two squad cars and an ambulance was winding toward them. It looked as though they’d all be spared a long hot walk after all.
****
Anne Lenski walked up the drive towards the Burke house, her feet crunching over the rough ground as she went. House calls over the past few years had persuaded her of the use of practical footwear. This was the first time she’d visited the house and although she knew them well, both Erin and Ben were relative strangers to the health center.
She passed Ben’s battered old blue pickup as she climbed the steps to the weather-beaten porch. Two old and worn wooden rocking chairs sat facing towards the mountainside. She imagined them sitting there watching the sunset go down beyond the mountain. Standing in the porch, Anne knocked on the shabby door and waited. When no reply came, she called out and tried the door, only to discover it was locked. She called again, and then decided to try around the back. A small narrow wooden path led off to the left of the house and after a short time she came across a stone-walled back garden.
Anne pushed the much repaired wooden gate open and stepped into the enclosure. The garden was full of shrubs and potted plants and an ancient looking glasshouse was filled to the brim with delicious looking vegetables. Vivid red tomato plants and the strong aroma of fresh mint wafted through the air.
However, the stark reality remained that this was a crime scene. Remnants of yellow and black plastic police tape hung lifeless in the breeze lazy afternoon. A tin of bright green paint lay on its side, the spilled contents solidifying in the hot sun, testament to a task never completed. Directly in front of the glass out-house was the white outline of a figure, the intruder that Ben had killed. Jack Larson, the coroner, had attended the scene. Anne had been at Mary Firth’s house and missed the call.
Over the last few days there’d been too many violent deaths and she’d found herself dwelling on her time as an army doctor in Iraq. There, violent deaths had been a daily occurrence. Looking at the white figure outline, her thoughts drifted to Paul.
What had gone through his mind when the Jihadists had dragged him from the aid tent? What had been his last thoughts on that day in Syria? What would her last thoughts have been? He’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and he’d died just because he’d been an American, as simple as that. Nothing profound; just a victim of racial and religious hatred.
She tried the door and lifted the catch but as she was about to enter the dilapidated structure, she saw reflected in the glass window a figure through the open gate. She turned around and walked back down the path towards the gate. If it was Ben or Erin then she didn’t want to startle them, so she called out to let them know she was there. As she left the enclosure she caught a fleeting glimpse of the figure disappearing around the corner of the house.
“Ben, its Dr Lenski. I just need to talk to you. Ben?”
She turned right and followed the pine end of the house until she came to a small extension. She called out once more and as she rounded the corner she came face to face with the figure. It was neither Ben nor Erin. Its lipless face was etched into a grotesque sort of smile and as it opened its mouth it let out a raspy shriek. The lifeless transparent eyes stared right through her. Terrified, she stumbled backwards as the creature lurched at her, its hands reaching o
ut like claws.
Chapter - Eleven
Ben Burke was scared. Not like the time he’d flipped the car; this was a different scared. He sat in the tiny treatment room, holding his wife’s fragile hand. Rows of beeping machines with little flashing lights surrounded them, and the brilliant white walls hurt his eyes. He knew that all these contraptions were keeping Erin alive and he was thankful, but he just wanted her home. When he’d thought of death, he’d always imagined that it would come to them in their own home, in their own bed, on their terms.
Ben looked at Erin, her features barely recognisable through the plastic face-mask; just a frail old lady, but back then when he’d first met her that had been different. She and her cousin had been standing by the open door on the hot summer night. Hank had asked the cousin for a dance and Ben had been left with Erin and that had been the start of it. Some weeks later he’d asked her Pa if he could walk her out.
Old man Harris had been a stern faced old coot and he’d taken an instant dislike to Ben. But Ben was persistent and eventually he got his way. The two never got on, so when the old coot suddenly dropped dead, it was no great loss. The following year, Ben and Erin married and she moved into the Burke farmhouse. It had been a long time since they’d had a woman about the place to fuss over them. Ben’s mother died when he was a child and his father had thrown himself into the farm but farming was also Ben’s life. However, the same could not be said for Hank. He’d never liked the lifestyle and had always waited for the chance to quit. As soon as he was old enough, he joined the army.
Although the farmstead was modest, it was still large enough for them to loan areas of land to people. Tony Firth’s father had farmed one such plot for years but that arrangement had cost them dearly. With Hank leaving, the workload had increased for everyone and Erin had also needed to pitch in with manual work. They were hard times but also among some of the best. Then the Union Pacific telegram had arrived, changing things forever.
He remembered how his father had wept in the barn that day. Ben had never seen him like that, even when Ma died. Hank had been one of the last Americans to die in the Korean War. A week later, Pa died. The death certificate said ‘heart attack’ but Ben knew it was a broken heart. He and Erin had suddenly become people with property. It had taken him years to get used to the idea. They didn’t have much, but what they had was all theirs. Yet it wasn’t worth a thing without Erin. He looked down at her and a tear slid down his wrinkled old cheek. She was all he had left. If only she’d wake up.
“Ben. Ben!”
He looked at his wife but the sound was coming from the doorway. Elle-May was standing in the room, clutching a notepad, beaming back at him.
“Sorry Ben, I figured I’d fix up some food for you. Just wanted to know what you wanted?”
Food was the last thing on his mind; still it was good of her to ask. He slowly shook his head and raised his weary hand.
“Obliged to you but I ain’t rightly hungry now.”
“Maybe so, but if you don’t eat something soon, you’ll be in the next bed.”
He shut his tired eyes for a few moments. The day had taken its toll on him; he was so worn-out. It made no sense to make himself ill. What use would he be then? Perhaps she was right. He looked over at Elle-May, smiled and nodded his head.
“Two runny eggs and a plate of beans will do me just fine, if you’ve a mind to?”
“Sure thing. We aim to please.”
“Just asking, when’s the doc gonna see Erin?”
“She went up to your place ‘cause she thought you were back home. She’s gonna be back real soon. Don’t worry; I’ll go fix the eggs.”
With that she gave a little wave and walked off down the corridor. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate all they were doing; he just couldn’t stand all the fuss. The sooner the doc got there, the sooner they could get home, the happier he’d be. As Ben squeezed Erin’s hand he couldn’t help but think: what was keeping Dr Lenski?
****
Eastman’s rugged boots crunched heavily on the gravel as he passed Anne Lenski’s car. The barn was the only place left to look. Where the hell was she? As he cut through Erin’s withered flowerbeds he became aware of a faint pounding coming from the direction of the barn. As Eastman drew level to the small wall at the side of the house, his eyes darted about. Across the yellow expanse of Ben’s top field, Eastman could make out two of the creatures beating on the barn door and wailing loudly.
Ducking behind the wall he slowed his breathing and cautiously stuck out his head for a better look. Above the door about twenty feet up, was the hayloft and through its opening he saw Anne Lenski. Eastman drew his pistol and stalked closer, trying not to alert the creatures. His jaw dropped when suddenly, Anne started calling out to him.
“Brad, just listen don’t talk. I’m okay. They’re not interested in you; they hunt by sight and sound. As long as they can’t see or hear you, you’re invisible.”
The things that were trying to break down the door were certainly oblivious to him – maybe she was right. As he moved closer, his mind frantically tried to come up with a course of action. The thought of trying to subdue these things was out of the question. That left him with the second option. He disliked the notion of just killing them out of hand. However, after Hinckle Point he was not prepared to take any risks. As much as he hated the prospect, there was no other way; he levelled his pistol at the back of the nearest creature’s head.
“Don’t shoot them. We can’t just kill them, there has to be another way… Brad, please?”
Eastman looked up at her in disbelief. Had she lost the damn plot? He widened his eyes and shook his head. Loony as a coot. Yet, maybe there was some other way. Neither of them was in any immediate danger; Anne was safely behind a solid wooden door and after all, he was armed. These things were never going to win any races. Taking several steps backwards, he knew he’d not have much time as soon as he started to talk. He’d have to be direct and precise. He called out in a hushed voice over the creature’s mournful wails.
“I’m going to distract them from the barn. When they follow, you get the hell out.”
His luck was in; the creatures took absolutely no notice and continued to pound the door. He decided he would carry on until they noticed him.
“Is there any way into that barn other than this door?”
The nod of her head prompted him to continue.
“Great, when they start to follow me, get out and hide just there, out of sight,” he said, pointing just left of the outside barn wall.
Then just like the last dime on a payphone, his time ran out. The larger of the two creatures stopped the infernal pounding and slowly turned its head to look over its right shoulder, looking for the next target. Brownish drool trickled out between the broken teeth and dripped down its ragged bearded chin. Then the creature let out a chilling screech as it lurched towards him. Eastman drew back; this did not rank as one of his best ideas.
The first time he’d seen one of them up close he’d felt a whole range of emotions; fear, revulsion and horror, but there’d been something else. At the time he just hadn’t been able to figure it out; now watching this thing stalking him, the answer hit him like a right cross. Anger. The type of anger that’s difficult to separate from hate. This puke ugly critter saw him as part of the food chain. Just another lump of meat. Eastman’s eyes narrowed to pin points and he felt the pressure build in his trigger finger. He hadn’t felt like that since he’d caught the drunk who’d killed Helen. Then he remembered he was a lawman.
Eastman holstered his Magnum and looked at the second creature, still bashing the door. The plan needed both of them to follow him. He stepped back a few feet, picked up a medium sized rock and scored a direct hit on the second creature’s head. Letting out a loud grunt, the thing stopped and turned to look around. Eastman brought his hands together like thunderclaps, yelling at the top of his voice. The excited creatures lost interest in the barn door and slowly
started to follow Eastman onto the field.
“Anne, I’m gonna lead these dead heads away from the barn, up to the top and then I’m coming back. I’ll holler when it’s clear for you to come out. Anne, don’t take any chances.”
“Be careful.”
Eastman led the two creatures in a ghoulish ‘follow the leader’ away from the barn, calling to Anne to leave as he went. The creatures moved no faster than a slow walk and like Anne had said, they seemed unaware of anything other than their intended prey. They also seemed incapable of coherent speech and just let out a constant groan. He doubted if there was anything anybody could do for these poor souls.
Eastman kept an even pace far enough to be out of reach, but not so far that they lost interest. When he reached the battered fence at the top of the field, he turned and touched the brim of his Stetson, bid the creatures farewell then ran towards the barn. Soon he was standing next to Anne and he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Listen there’s not much time, I’m gonna lead those two into the far end of the barn. Then I’m gonna high tail it back out. You gotta be ready to bar that door soon as I’m clear.”
“Now hold on there. You’re going in there with those two? That’s not such a good...”
“Anne, either we trap them in there or I’m gonna have to shoot them. I can’t risk them roaming around. Now, you with me on this or not?”
“I don’t like this one bit. Just be careful.”
Eastman nodded his head and handed her the wooden bar for the door. It was a solid piece of timber and he reckoned strong enough to hold them. He ushered Anne behind the barn side and swung the single door wide open. This further obscured Anne. He wanted the dead heads to see him only.
“Anne stay out of sight until I get them in the barn, but be ready when I come a-running. I need to know, do you think there’s a cure for these things?”
“Well I...”
“I’m risking my life here.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. But I’m sure going to try.”
Containment: A Zombie Novel Page 12