by William Bebb
“Son of bitch!” Wyatt yelled. as he looked over at his crazed deputy.
Thomas turned, when the captain spoke, and dove for him. He clutched Wyatt's arm and bit it. The captain fought back and slammed on the brakes. The car slid to a stop almost even with the back of the utility building.
“Shoot him!” Maria yelled, from the back seat, as Wyatt let go of the steering wheel to grapple with the deputy with both hands. The car rocked back and forth as the fight in the front seat continued. He pulled his gun and, with his other hand, fought to keep Thomas off of him. Drooling and screaming, the deputy grabbed Wyatt around the neck using both hands. Wyatt's face turned bright red as he pointed his gun and fired repeatedly.
The shots were deafening inside the car. Maria covered her ears, and closed her eyes, praying rapidly. Thomas flew back against the passenger side door with four smoking holes in his chest plus three more in his neck. He slumped against the window, dead.
“Get him out of the car! Throw him out! He's going to come back like the others.” Maria pleaded, while Wyatt stared at the dead deputy. The last shots went through Thomas's neck, nearly severing the head from his body, before smashing the window behind him. Through the smashed window Wyatt saw dozens of men, including several in ICE uniforms, running toward them.
He saw the people would be at the car, in less than a minute and stared at his bleeding arm. The sky swam in and out of focus as he felt more confused. Looking back at the girl in the backseat the growing confusion cleared for a second. He pressed the rear door lock release button and felt a fiery pain, like a red hot metal spear, throbbing in the center of his head.
“Get out! Now!” He screamed as his body shook uncontrollably. He held his head in his hands and started to scream louder as the deceased deputy lifted his head and looked at him.
Maria climbed out of the backseat and ran along the side of the utility building as the squad car sped off with the siren blaring. She reached the rear of the building and stared at Mrs. Remlap's house. The fire was spreading fast across the wooden porch and flames erupted from the windows. Plumes of black smoke rose into the cloudless blue sky as she tried to think.
She sat on a crate next to a pile of others and considered hiding behind a stack of them. There are certainly enough of them, she thought looking at the pile stacked against the cinderblock wall of the building. The siren and screams made it hard to think. A shadow moved and she looked up at the top of the wall and spotted a large ugly bird squatting on the edge leering back at her. She'd seen enough of the crazy people attack the birds to understand why it was sitting up there, in safety.
Careful of her broken fingers caused by the rat trap, she reached up onto a wooden crate against the wall and climbed. This is stupid. I'm going to fall and break my neck, she thought, as she kept climbing. The bird flew off after squawking indignantly at her. She heard a grunting sound and held still. A man trudged around the corner of the building. From his rotten flesh smell she could tell he'd been dead for quite awhile. He entered the shade from the building and slowed to a stop. He did not look around. He did not look anywhere. He stopped and only seemed to be looking at his feet. Maria held very still and tried to be quiet.
Shoemaker slowly walked to the roadside and watched as the cruiser stopped near the utility building and was just beginning to smile when the sound of multiple gunshots rang out. No. Oh no, come on. He thought, as he saw someone jump out of the distant car. He shook his head as the car's siren started blaring and it started forward again. The interior was hard to make out, but he saw a shadowy figure in the passenger seat reaching out of the window. He squatted behind the rusty van, holding the shotgun, ready to catch a ride out. The car was moving erratically as it came closer. It sped up, then slowed down and swung left and right. It reminded Shoemaker of kids driving bumper cars. He had a very bad feeling.
The crates creaked under her ominously and she heard wood cracking. The zombie turned and looked at the crates stacked by the wall and shuffled over. The cracking sound grew louder as the stack of crates started to sway. Ignoring the undead man, Maria climbed faster for the roof. Her uninjured hand reached over the top off the wall and she grabbed a piece of what felt like metal tubing. The dead man looked up at the crates and saw the girl. Grunting softly, he grabbed a crate and pulled on it.
She swung a leg onto the roof as the tower of crates collapsed. The crashing sound was loud, but it was covered partly by the police siren that was giving her a headache. She could no longer see the man on the ground, but heard muffled grunts coming from the pile of wood. After getting to the roof she looked at it and said the only thing she could think of, “Shit!”
She held onto a broken rafter that was pointing at the sky as she stood up. The top of the walls were the thickness of a cinder block and the fallen roof was scattered on the floor below. She considered her few options. Stand here till help comes, climb down into the ruined building, or- She stared at the big silver truck, at the front of the building, and nodded her head slightly. She grabbed the next broken rafter and slowly walked along the top of the wall. As she crept along she heard the police car picking up speed followed moments later by a loud crash. The siren warbled for several seconds then fell silent.
Before the crash, the reanimated remains of Deputy Thomas Holmes and infected Captain Wyatt had an interesting time. Captain Wyatt had always been a devout believer in seat belts and required his passenger to buckle up as well. Thomas pulled himself partially out the passenger side window as the car swung around and crashed into Dead Heads, Screamers, and several piles of junk. The seat belt held him down and infuriated the deputy to the point that he started biting at the material strapped across his chest. Gnawing at the seat belt he growled and kicked at the dashboard while the car continued to move in spastic starts and stops.
Wyatt was equally at a loss for how to remove his seat belt and beat at the steering wheel while kicking his legs frantically trying to get out of the car. His feet slammed down on the gas and brake pedals, first one then the other and finally both at the same time. The car's engine roared as the siren infuriated him further. Seeing Thomas gnawing at his seat belt, the captain punched him in the side of his head while screaming. Thomas leaned over and the two officers clawed and bit at each other as Wyatt's foot stomped on the gas pedal. The tires spun around smoking as the car sped across the dusty trailer park toward the exit. The remaining tissues holding the deputy's head onto his body tore free as Wyatt pulled on Thomas's hair.
Thomas looked at his captain as he was flung out the passenger side window. The head rolled through the dust and landed next to a fairly large abandoned doll's body, ironically enough, missing it's head and an arm wearing a dirty torn pink dress.
Wyatt flailed at everything around him as the car went faster. He yanked at the steering wheel and clawed at the ceiling. The driver side visor flipped down as he screamed. An old faded photograph of his wife wearing her wedding dress and smiling, by a still pond, was clipped onto the visor. Captain Wyatt always brought it along, on every assignment he was on, and never forgot to clip it to the visor. Regardless of how bad a day he was having he would always look at her and remember why he put up with all the crap that came with being a cop.
He stared at the photograph and his eyes widened. He reached out with trembling fingers and made a soft guttural noise as the car sped up the exit road. The car passed Shoemaker, hiding behind the wrecked van, going sixty eight miles an hour. Wyatt's bloody fingertips touched the photograph as the car slammed into the back of the Immigration Criminal Enforcement bus.
Shoemaker stared, with his mouth hanging open, as the car headed for the bus. He saw the deputy's head fly out of the car a few seconds earlier and opened the rear door of the van. There were dozens of people running after the squad car and he realized he needed to get out of sight fast. The car struck the bus as Shoemaker climbed into the back of the van. The gas tank of the bus exploded and the force of the blast slammed the van's door shu
t. Pieces of the squad car and bus soared into the sky and seconds later several bits of debris thumped down on the van's roof.
I'm so fucked. He thought, looking out the dirty window of the van. The interior of the van reeked of old sweat and marijuana. He sat on a plastic five gallon paint can and tried to think as he stroked the shotgun absently.
CHAPTER 15
The silver trailer glittered like sterling silver, as Josey and Billy climbed out of the drainage ditch they’d been walking in.
“I think Boris needs to go on a diet. My arm's killing me.” Josey whispered, as they looked around the trailer's backyard. It looked deserted and he whispered “Let’s go, and keep your eyes peeled, kid.”
They had only walked a few steps when a man wearing a black uniform walked around the far corner of the trailer, looking rapidly in all directions. He was an older, sort of lanky, man wearing a bulletproof vest with big white letters spelling ICE on his chest.
“All right.” Josey said, smiling. “Hey you, don’t shoot! We’re not-” he didn’t get to finish his explanation that they weren’t infected, as the man screamed and ran at them. The man in black was moving faster than anyone he’d seen before and even if the scream hadn’t convinced him he was bad news, his bleeding eyes and outstretched bloody ripped sleeves of his shirt did.
Boris made an indignant woof noise when Josey dropped him to the ground, and said “If you get a chance, to get by him, run for the trailer.” Billy started to say something, but Josey had already stepped forward between him and the onrushing infected man. He could just make out the name Gilmer stenciled on the ICE agent’s shirt pocket as he swung the sword moving away from the boy and dog.
“Hey Gilmer, can you understand me?’ he asked, as the lanky man grabbed for him. They moved further away from Billy as Gilmer seized Josey's arm and leaned forward to bite. He saw Billy pumping up his rifle, standing between them and the dog even though he had an easy escape route to the trailer. Josey looked for any indication Gilmer was anything more than a mindless homicidal monster. But as he bit and tore at his coat sleeves he knew the answer and swung the sword. It sliced across Gilmer's chest and he realized the blade would never cut thru a vest designed to stop bullets. That's just what we need- bulletproof zombies, he thought backing away.
He was pulling back to stab at Gilmer's neck or head, he hadn’t really decided which, when Mrs. Remlap called out through the open back doorway. “Billy! Get your butt over here, right now mister!”
In spite of the yelling old lady, Billy fired and hit Gilmer in his butt. As the BB went straight thru his pants he screamed loudly. Letting go of Josey's jacket he turned to the boy. He was already quickly pumping the rifle again, as he stood in front of the dog in the sand. Had Gilmer not turned, after being shot, Josey would have sworn the sword would have hit along his neck. Instead it hit the back of his head, about an inch short of the top, and cut through both skin and hair before the blade scraped along his skull.
Gilmer howled as he ran at the boy, his loose scalp flapping back exposing more of the bloody skull beneath. Blood poured from his head wound, but he didn't seem to notice it. He was moving so fast Josey knew he would reach the boy before he could catch up. He saw Billy aiming for Gilmer's head. Josey wanted to yell Run, but felt sure the boy probably wouldn’t go. He’d only known the kid a little less than a day and yet he knew Billy would rather die than abandon the dog. Plus he saw how fast Gilmer was running and doubted the boy could even keep pace with him let alone outrun the man. So he yelled as he limped after him.
“No Billy! Not his head. Shoot him in the balls!” hoping Gilmer wasn’t wearing a protective cup today.
Billy heard and aimed down as he pulled the trigger. The results were a memory the boy would always remember with, more than a touch of, a disturbing sadistic smile.
The man that had was once been Gilmer, felt the BB as it burst his left testicle and fell in the dust with his loose scalp hanging down over his face. Groaning a long soft mournful sound, he curled up in a fetal position just a few feet from the boy. Josey looked around as he limped over, but didn’t see any other attackers in the area and stabbed the sword down into Gilmer's ear. The body shook for a few seconds then laid still.
“I’m glad you only shot my ear off earlier. Now get your ass in the trailer, I’ll get Boris.” Josey whispered, wiping the blood off the sword on Gilmer’s pants.
They both heard a siren and a fast moving car somewhere. Billy pointed behind Josey. A police car swerved around the park and they both watched it being chased by a pack of a few dozen people. Some were obviously just infected and they ran far ahead of the rest of the pack. But it looked like all the undead were chasing it as well. The car was kicking up clouds of dust and sand as it picked up speed driving erratically and was hard to see clearly. Billy shouted and pointed as it sped toward the exit.
“It’s Maria! She's over there on the roof! We gotta go save her!”
Josey yanked the rifle out of the boy’s hand and picked up the dog. He felt his knee aching and was drenched in sweat again under the heavy coat. The sound of the car's engine roared for a moment then a loud crash echoed across the valley.
“Hey! No fair. Gimmee the rifle back, I’ll need it to save her.” Billy said chasing after Josey who was headed for the backdoor. Mrs. Remlap had a rolling pin clutched tightly in both hands, as they hurried to the open door.
“Come on Billy, faster.” Josey said, as he limped quickly to the open doorway.
Boris couldn't weigh more than thirty pounds, yet as he carried him the dog felt like a sack of concrete with fur.
Billy ran ahead and shouted “Grandpa! Maria needs help and Josey took my rifle! Make him give it back!”
Phyllis Remlap, took one hand off the rolling pin, grabbed Billy’s ear and pulled him into the trailer as he yelled.
“Let go! Owowheyow son of a!” Billy was pulled inside and ran crying to his grandpa in the kitchen. Josey lifted the dog into the trailer and turned to look where the girl stood on the roof of the utility building.
“Now you, get your ass in here.” Mrs. Remlap whispered.
“Not yet, hand me the binoculars for a second and some bottles of water. I gotta go check and see if Billy's right about something.” he said, gesturing to the old building where his truck sat shining in the afternoon sun. Billy was crying loudly inside as Josey focused the binoculars on the utility building. He stared at a beautiful girl sitting on the top of the wall of the utility building and wondered what she was doing. She was only a few yards from the rear of his truck. She was apparently staring across the park toward the burning cars and bus by the exit. She's not going to jump from there. It's got to be at least nine feet high, he thought.
She looked around to see if anyone was near the truck, and jumped. Josey gasped in shock, when she hit the ground. She tried to stand and fell down in the dust. As she crawled toward the truck Josey swore under his breath and handed back the binoculars to Mrs. Remlap.
“Okay, you've wasted enough time, now get in here.” The old woman said quietly.
“I can't.” Josey sighed, while he shook his head. “Hand me those water bottles and lock the door.” He said, and shoved the bottles into his coat pockets. Mrs. Remlap was saying something about “Not being a jackass” as he limped toward his truck. He looked at the fire at the exit and shook his head again. I'm going to die. Maybe the old lady’s right. Maybe I am being a jackass. Maybe I am the stupidest man on the face of the earth, and now I'm going to die. Shit. He thought, as he tried to limp faster. Or am I? Again, He felt that time was running out. If armored, heavily armed, police couldn't handle the situation how much longer would it be before some crazy general ordered a nuke be dropped on all of us? Maybe he was letting his imagination run wild, but after the last day and a half he didn't think so. Time was running out, he could feel it.
Shoemaker pumped the shotgun as he exited the van, and ran toward the distant truck. He had spotted the person creeping alon
g the top of the wall a few minutes earlier, and knew from the way they moved that they weren't crazy. When he saw whoever it was fall or jump from the building he realized they'd be dead if he didn't try and help.
Dudley, watching from the door of one of the trailers, only waited a second after he spotted Shoemaker running before he ran after him. I will not hide here like a coward. It's time to put an end to this nightmare. He reached up and patted his shirt pocket and felt the phone inside it and ran harder.
Sweat poured into his eyes as Shoemaker ran. He swerved around a pile of rotten lumber and wished his uniform was a lighter color. It's fucking New Mexico! Who decided black was a good color to wear in this heat? He wondered, as he ran.
Behind the pile of lumber a bloody little boy, who might have been five or six years old, wearing a yellow smiley face shirt, trotted toward him with the remains of a dead bird in one hand and a knife in the other. Oh God! He thought and fired at the child's head. It disintegrated and the small body swayed. The bird and knife fell in the dust and Shoemaker felt he was going to throw up. Seconds after he ran by he clearly heard the boy's body fall. Trying not to cry he ran on. It was a kid! Just a fucking kid! What the Hell is going on?
The world seemed to be spinning and he stumbled forward in shock. Tears were running down his cheeks as he neared the truck. A movement coming up fast to the left caught his attention. He saw the uniform and the figure running faster than him and realized whoever it was would reach the girl before he could. Not pausing to think, he took aim and fired the shotgun.