by William Bebb
Billy, you may not know it yet, but you are going trick or treating tonight. I just hope whoever beat on you this afternoon tries it again. Oh God, I really hope they try it again. Bo thought, as he went to the master bathroom he shared with Cheryl. He almost yelped when he saw the bleary eyed, chubby, man with the beard and unruly hair staring back at him in the mirror.
Good Lord, what have I done to myself? He shook his head, warily looking at the bum in the mirror. How could Cheryl tolerate me this way? His scruffy beard and mustache felt unpleasantly greasy as he touched it. He turned the hot water faucet on and retrieved his straight razor and shaving cream from the cupboard. The steam rose as he shaved, covering the hidden miniature camera's lens, in the air conditioning vent on the ceiling.
After the clouds blew apart a buzzard lazily circled high up in the mid-afternoon sky. Without understanding what it saw, the bird flew in a high lazy pattern over the remote valley it had been born in. Migrating back, for the winter, it's sharp eyes recognized very little below. There were a few bulldozers, trucks and men in white bio-hazard suits, but no animals moved in the valley. Which struck the bird as odd since it was teeming with rabbits and rats just last spring. A long, ten foot high, chain link fence encircled the entire valley. A large closed gate crossed the road leading down into the valley. Nearby, a pair of double wide trailers and a tall metal communications tower stood silently.
The large bird swooped in lower and landed on the tower looking at the buildings, the fence, and the gate. It spotted something interesting and flew down to the base of the fence. A rabbit's decomposing body lay just inches from the softly humming fence. The buzzard looked but saw no one nearby to interrupt his snack. It tore into the corpse with its beak and sharp talons and ate well.
“Yum yum. Hey sergeant, wanna come over and see something gross?” A young man in green military fatigues asked, standing by a window facing the fence.
The sergeant made hushing gestures and continued to listen to the person who had called after the rains had come through. He had a pen in his hand and had been furiously scribbling for the last fifteen minutes on a notepad.
God, this is boring. Private first class Gunther Copeland thought, turning away from the window and looking at the rows of TV monitors along the wall of the trailer. There were forty monitors dedicated to the valley and another thirty dedicated to the survivors from the valley. The screens were in vivid color and had great resolution but they were boring to watch nonetheless.
Gunther flopped into his chair and stared across the screens. A squad of men in hazmat suits taking samples in sector four trudged around prodding the muddy ground. There was a field of chewed up dirt where dozens of mobile homes used to be in sector two. A little creek that had swollen with runoff from the recent rains in sector seventeen showed the only thing mildly interesting. He shook his head as he stared at that monitor. A large tanker truck filled with bleach and other chemicals was shooting a spray of disinfectants into the air and into the stream. He lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair watching the monitors.
“Yes sir. I understand. It's being taken care of as we speak.” Sergeant Paulson said, for the tenth time since the call came in nearly half an hour earlier when the rains first started.
“Are you certain you have enough in the truck to accommodate the additional runoff from the rains?” Dr. David Peters, special presidential adviser from the Centers for Disease Control asked.
“Yes sir, as I said earlier, the crew I spoke to said the tanker was replaced just yesterday. And they say in spite of the rain no contaminated elements will leave the valley.”
“I'm having some trouble receiving the video feed; here in Atlanta how heavy was the storm? Rain in New Mexico! I thought it never rained there. Have squads been checking the fence perimeter for any other possible runoff sites?”
“Yes sir. Seems we caught a break in that only Farro's Stream in sector seventeen is a point of runoff. It rained pretty steady for almost an hour then tapered off.”
“Weather report says the storms should be breaking up out there. Can you confirm?”
“I'm looking out the window now. The clouds have broken up or moved out. Looks clear to me.”
“Okay. I'm sorry if I've been coming across like an ass, sergeant, but this is the first rain we've had since the incident back in July. I thought we'd have more time to finish sterilizing the valley by now. Just keep a close eye on the monitors and keep me informed of anything unusual.” Dr. Peters said.
“No problem sir, we're keeping an eye on things.”
“Alright, I'll be in my office for the next few hours. Call if you need me.”
“Yes s-” Sergeant Paulson started to say as he heard the dial tone of a disconnected call.
“Rude son of a bitch. Just hang up after chewing on my ear for nearly half an hour. And all because of some stupid rain.”
Private first class Gunther Copeland didn't answer. He was leaning back in his chair facing the monitors with his eyes closed, sleeping comfortably.
The buzzard finished its meal and flew over the fence. It circled the valley for several minutes, looking down, unable to understand what had happened to his home. Flying lower it landed in a small clearing away from the men working in other parts of the valley. It hopped over to a trickle of water and drank. It cocked its head and listened to the sound of rushing water and walked over to a small fence about five foot square. In the center of the fenced in area was a recessed space with rainwater flowing in from the higher ground. The bird looked at the metal sign on the fence and squawked. The words on the sign read Danger, Abandoned Well!
The bird drank from one the small streams flowing under the fence and listened to the water falling into the well. It looked at the valley and decided to find a more inviting winter home. Flying swiftly into the afternoon sky it quickly became a speck on the horizon.
In July, when the valley had been a nearly deserted trailer park, several bodies ended up in the now fenced off well. Government officials removed them, some of whom were reanimated dead men or zombies and drained it as a safety precaution. It was designated as a 'clean site' in the reports that followed the incident. Plans were in place to have it filled with dirt, but it had been put on the back burner while the rest of the valley was sterilized.
Millions of gallons of chemicals had been sprayed on nearly every square inch of the valley in an attempt to kill any remaining sources of the Keck Virus. It was named after Stephen Keck who had unintentionally unleashed a small scale zombie apocalypse that claimed nearly a hundred victims. No plants grew in the decimated valley. The topsoil had been scraped clean and treated in ways the officials were sure would destroy any remaining elements of the virus that had caused the residents to go homicidally insane until they died and rose again as zombies. Even Farro's Stream was designated practically clean. But after it was decided overkill was justified, chemical sprayers had been placed in and around the stream to prevent runoff which could conceivably contain the virus. It was a good plan. Unfortunately, the officials overlooked something rather important.
There are aquifers throughout the southwestern United States. Vast underground networks of water that sit and await anyone with the desire and resources to sink a well into them. They then pump the water out and use it for all manner of things. Farmers and ranchers use it for crops and livestock, remote homesteads too far from urban water supplies use it, even major municipalities like Albuquerque New Mexico tap into the aquifers for the municipal water supplies.
In the aftermath of the horrific incident in this remote valley and the subsequent plan to cover the story up, no one in the government had thought to ask a geologist about the aquifers. It hadn't rained and the stream seemed a logical point to stop any possible viral outbreak.
The abandoned well had been pumped dry after the dead and undead had been removed, but no one had thought to flood the shaft with the chemicals they were using everywhere else throughout the valley. As the rain run
off filled the well gravity and pressure forced a tiny amount of viral contaminants into the aquifer system below. The water flowed swiftly through the underground channels, undetected, unsuspected, and unseen, into a deep dark natural cauldron.
The clown called Ringo Dingo juggled and the children screamed in ecstasy as only a pack of five and six year olds could exhibit for such a stupid display. Katie had always been afraid of clowns growing up, but her snotty little brother had talked their mom into getting one for his birthday. The eleven year old girl wasn't going out in the backyard while the clown was there. She watched her mom putting a dozen multicolored cupcakes on a tray and listened to her I-Pod wishing the birthday party was over. Katie didn't exactly hate her little brother Dabney, but it was as close to hate as a big sister could have without the violent use of a sharpened butcher knife. He was loud, annoying, sneaky, and in a multitude of ways, disgusting. He'd learned to belch on command and took great pride in frequently demonstrating his talent.
“Katie!” Her mother yelled, from across the kitchen.
“What?” She answered, yanking out her ear buds. Looking at her mom, she fought down with great difficulty heaving a loud sigh of exasperation.
“I asked you to fix the lemonade ten minutes ago. Is it ready?”
“I forgot. I'll do it. Just a minute.” She said, heading for the sink.
“Never mind, here, take out this tray of cupcakes while I do it.”
“Mom please, I'll do it. You take out the cupcakes. You don't want to miss anymore of Dabney's birthday do you?” Katie asked, walking quickly to the sink and turning away from her mother.
“Okay, but hurry up, make it, and bring it outside. We have a group of hungry little monsters in the backyard.” Her mother said, carrying the tray out the open back door.
Katie pulled out the big plastic pitcher and opened the jar of powdered lemonade mix. She looked at the little kids with their faces all painted up like monsters. Her mother, who worked in cosmetics at a store downtown, had done the makeup for each child as they arrived. She gave each kid a choice and after all of them were transformed they had three clowns, two puppies, one kitten and five zombies in attendance. The makeup job wasn't too bad, thought Katie, except the zombie kids looked weird with painted on smiles clashing with the fake blood on their faces.
She put the pitcher in the sink and turned on the faucet. The pipes rattled and a trickle of water came out. Cistern must be empty, she thought, flipping the switch to the well's pump. She looked out the window waiting for the water and saw the kids laughing with icing from the cupcakes smeared on their faces. She looked past them to the barn and wanted more than anything, at that moment, to go saddle up Sparky and take a long ride. Sparky was her horse. Her mom may say that he's both hers and her brother's horse but she knew better.
In the distance, she saw the sun beginning to drift down toward the horizon and some of the kid’s parents standing around the collection of expensive cars waiting for the party to be over. Beyond the cars and parents she saw the long driveway that ran back to the highway over a mile away. As the pipes rattled and a gush of water began to fill the pitcher she wondered how long this day would be.
Billy went to his bedroom after his shower and looked at the costume his mom had gotten him for Halloween. It was supposed to be a magician's outfit. There was a black top hat with a small white rabbit on a spring, so that when you removed the hat you could pull out the rabbit. The magic wand had a little button that would shoot out a multicolored bouquet of flowers if pressed. Ooh look out Voldermort, here comes Billy also known as he who shall be stupid looking. He thought, putting on the black slacks and white long sleeved shirt. Billy looked at the black jacket studded with little sequins with the words Magic Man written in little multicolored neon lights on the back. Flicking on the batteries inside the jacket he stared at the glowing words feeling embarrassed to even be in the same room with such a garment. Turning off the lights, he put on the jacket. Picking up the only part of his costume that he really liked he wrapped the cape around his neck. It wasn't silk but it felt like it. It was very black on the outside and blinding bright red inside.
“Good evening. I vant to suck your blood.” He said, staring menacingly in the mirror. Billy laughed and grabbed his empty pillowcase. Maybe, if I fill this whole thing up, I can make Jessie and his friends ease off. He thought, walking down the staircase.
“Billy, come eat your dinner.” Cheryl said, from the kitchen. The doorbell rang as he walked into the kitchen. He turned to go back to the door, but his mom grabbed the bowl of candy and trotted past him. “You go eat, I'll handle this. It's chicken, you'll like it.”
Billy stared at the grilled chicken breast sitting on the plate with a pile of Brussels sprouts sitting next to it and felt nauseous. “It's chicken, you'll like it.” He whispered in a high pitched mocking voice, picking up the plate and hurrying to the back door. He heard his mom laughing as she gave out candy and quickly opened the door.
Boris looked up hopefully and wagged his tail rapidly.
“Here boy, eat this crap.” Billy whispered, sliding his dinner into the dog's bowl. Boris was happy to oblige and was chomping happily as Billy quickly put the plate in the dishwasher. He grabbed his pillowcase and was heading for the front door when he heard Bo's voice come from the darkened dining room through the small archway.
“I told her you wouldn't like that stuff for dinner.”
Billy stopped suddenly and looked a little scared.
“It's okay Billy. I'll tell her I saw you eat it. Come on in here for a second, and flip on the light.” The doorbell rang again as Billy went into the dining room, after turning on the light. Looking at Bo he stopped in amazement. He had shaved and was dressed in clean clothes. He didn't smell of booze either. His eyes were still bloodshot but overall he looked better than he had in weeks.
“I'm trying to cut down. Your mom was happily surprised to see me shaved and cleaned up too. Now, if I can get past this hangover, I'll be happy. He said, smiling. There was a plate with half a chicken breast and a small pile of Brussels sprouts on the table in front of him.
“Well um, you do look a lot better Mr. Autry.” Billy said, unsure what to say.
“I know you wanna get to trick-or-treating, but I want you to take this.” He said, sliding his mom's cell phone across the table. “If you get lost or anything give me a call. Unless of course, you want me to go with you.” Bo had thought hard about how to approach Billy about the bullies and decided to let him choose.
Billy picked up the phone and put it in his jacket pocket. He wasn't sure what to say. Part of him wanted Bo to come with him, but a bigger part felt ashamed to ask. I'm not a wimp. I 'm not a baby. But it'd sure be nice to have him along. He thought.
“Thanks for the offer Mr. Autry, but I think I can handle things.” Billy said, while a small part of his brain screamed, Yes! Come with me! Protect me from those fart knockers! I'm just a kid!
Bo saw the look of indecision in his eyes and felt more angry with the bastards who beat up Billy now than he had earlier. At the same time he admired the determination he saw in his little face.
He had considered the possibility Billy would rather go alone and had two backup plans. One was the cell phone he had him take. It had a function that would allow him to track where he was within twenty five feet. His other backup was one he knew Billy would agree to.
“Did you finish your dinner?” Cheryl asked, finally done giving out candy to the pack of early trick or treaters.
Billy looked up guiltily and Bo spoke up.
“He ate all the chicken, but I begged him to let me have some of his Brussels sprouts. You know how much I love them.”
Billy smiled up at his mom and dramatically patted his belly. “It was delicious. Better than McDonald's chicken nuggets and healthier too.”
Easy kid, she's gonna smell something amiss. Bo thought.
Cheryl had a suspicious look in her eye and was about to speak whe
n the doorbell rang again.
“Well I'm glad you liked it. Be home by nine o'clock, be safe and have fun.” She said, walking back to the front door.
“Maybe you should take Boris out with you. He could use a walk after eating your dinner.” Bo whispered.
“Great idea Bo.” Billy said, with a grin.
“And be home by nine, like your mom said.”
“I will.” Billy said, running for the backdoor with his pillowcase clutched in his hand.
After he left, Bo opened his cell phone, pressed a few buttons, and a map with a flashing blue dot appeared on the screen. He stabbed a Brussels sprout with his fork and bit it down. Nasty damn things. He thought. Feels like I have a green testicle in my mouth. Choking it down, he smiled, as Cheryl came back in carrying the bowl of candy.
“What made you get so cleaned up? You look just like the sexy man I met a few months ago?” She asked, playfully.
Bo had a headache. It had been a dull throbbing pain all afternoon until she asked him what was going on. It suddenly felt like a red hot spike was thrust into his brain. God, I need a drink. He thought, but managed a feeble smile.
“Just felt it was time to get my shit together, that's all.” He stood up and slid the cell phone into his dark leather jacket. “But I've really got a bad headache right now, so I might go outside for a walk and try to clear my head.”