After a week that got old so I would say, “Watch your can.”
Greer’d say, “Shake it, sake it!”
Me, “Watch your badunkadunk.”
Greer, “Red beans and rice didn’t miss me!”
And so on, “Watch your caboose, ace, apple bottom, backpack, backside, badinkadink, behind, bell, biscuit, booty, bum, bumper, buns, cake, fanny, humps, juicy double, pancake, tail feather, trunk, tucas, tush, duff, kiester, matako, moneymaker, pressed ham, whoopee cakes, honker, hinny, fanny, fundament, medicine balls, the thing that gets cold when you sit on something cold, wazoo, and so on.”
Eventually I ran out of buttocks euphemisms, and I switch back to, “Be careful.” Sometimes I’d mix it up a bit, just to keep it fresh and say, “Be home by eleven young lady.”
And she’d say, “You’re not the boss of me!” and run out the door.
“Hey my funky valentine, watch your back out there!”
“Good morning grandfather, bless you!
Or I’d say, “No playing grab ass or fighting out there.”
Greer, “I grin like a baby but bite like a gator.”
Or I’d try, “You’re not fooling around with the Bennet boy are you?”
“But Dad, I love him!”
Me, “You’re not going out dressed like that young lady!”
Greer, “I’ll wear what I want. I’m a natural borne world shaker!”
Me, “Is this the story of the depravity of the beat generations, true?”
Greer, “Wild fire passion and impossible temper!”
Me, “What the fuck?” And so on. It was a stupid little game we played but it helped break up the monotony a bit and keep the ever-present fear and depression from overwhelming us.
After Greer took off for her run, Nicky’d come down and make scrambled eggs, then sit next to me with one of her legs wrapped around mine and eat while reading one of the many books Tony’s Uncle had brought up to the cabin. Her latest was a book called The Drowned World, I think. She’d burn through a book, toss it aside, then burn through another one. I’d see her all day curled up on the couch wrapped in a blanket devouring her latest acquisition or up in our room buried under the covers. She wasn’t ignoring me, exactly, she was just ignoring the world outside.
Tony would show up next. He’d eat whatever was left over then drag me down to the basement where we’d inventory what was there and try to figure out how long we could stay. Once a week he’d do some voodoo math and come up with a new number. Eight months. A year. Three years, “Four if we eat Dreysi,” he said counting the endless rows of cans for the umpteenth time.
“Not even remotely funny, man,” I replied.
“You’d lap that up, dude. Hell she looks just like Nicky.”
“Oh, man! Don’t even say that! You just killed my libido for a week!”
He laughed and continued counting, “Serves you right for making me bring her up here.”
Dreysi would show up sometime after noon, shove something in her face, then crash on the other couch across from Nicky spending as much time as she could asleep. I didn’t blame her. I would have sleep more too if I could have but whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see were the people in Grants tearing into each other or dream of Greer’s dead bum eating that little girl’s throat out. I’d drift off and dream they were in the room, the dead, standing on the corner waiting for me to close my eyes. I’d see them and jerk awake, heart pounding, sweat pouring off of me. The starts were so bad my chest started hurting whenever I’d have one of these night terrors. If I was lucky, I was getting maybe two or three hours of sleep a night, usually just as the sun was coming up. The weak light would seep into the room and I could see no one was standing in the corners or at the foot of the bed or in the doorway. I’d relax and finally get a little sleep before my internal clock woke me up a few hours later. After that there was no going back to sleep.
So we each had our coping mechanism; me the parent cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, Greer and her runs, Nicky in her books, Tony and his inventories, and Dreysi sleeping through the whole thing. It was dull and it was depressing and on any given day you could expect to hear someone crying in their room as we all worried and fretted, terrified about what was happening in the world.
* * *
That all came to an end soon enough as the terror that had engulfed the world reached out to our haven almost two months from the day we left Albuquerque. Tony and I had inventoried everything his uncle had again and were sitting out on the deck overlooking the sweeping views of the canyons, talking about what might be happening back in the world, where our families were, and what we we’re going to do.
“We could hunt,” I said, “If we ran out of food.”
“You ever gut a deer?” Tony replied.
“No. I guess I could learn.”
“Yeah, sure. On that note, you see any dear lately?”
“Nope. Don’t go out much.”
“How about bears? Raccoons? Fucking goats? Stray dogs? Even a goddam squirrel?”
“None of those either because…I don’t go out much.”
“But when you do, you don’t see any of those things do you? When I’d come up here as a kid, this place was always crawling with something; raccoons getting into our trash, bears roaming around the property, squirrels going apeshit in the trees, everything, you name it. My man, I am starting to believe the entire forest has been cleaned out of all animals except us.”
“Cheery thought,” I replied, “At least we have water.” Tony’s Uncle had dropped a well some seven hundred feet to get to an aquifer that was guaranteed to last fifty years or so. As long as we had the power from the solar farm, we’d have water.
“Yeah, good old Uncle Bill. Won’t do us a fuck of good if we run out of food, though.”
I was beginning to think Tony had a starvation phobia. Maybe because his parents were poor when Tony was really young or something. I mean like, eating government cheese on the fat days, mustard and lettuce and nothing else on the thin ones of which there were many more. This for weeks on end when the regular food ran out.
From below and to the right of us I could hear Greer tearing up the trail that ran along the inside of the cabin’s fence line as she came up the driveway. I looked over and saw that Nicky had joined her on the morning run and was a few yards behind her running for all she was worth as well, “You think they’re racing?” I said as I got up and walked to the edge of the deck.
“Fuck if I know. Greer’s losing it, man, All she talks about at night is the dead and how they’ve overran everything and that they’ll get up here soon, On and on. Even when she’s asleep she dream’s about the infection. I think she’s going crazy.”
“Let’s hope not, for your sake.”
“Why for my sake?”
“Because then the only available female will be Dreysi,” I said laughing.
“Ha, ha. I’d rather fuck a crazy Greer. And furthermore, I would not bang Frigadoris, my friend, not even with your dick,” he replied laughing and leaning over the rail.
“Yep. Dreysi-land: where boners go to die.”
“The Great Bonner Graveyard.”
“What are you guys training for? Mount Taylor Olympics?” I called out over the deck rail watching Greer fly down the last few yards of the driveway. I saw the sweat pouring off of her, the way her breath tore in and out, then the look of sheer terror on her face.
Greer nearly collapsed as she reached the cabin’s doorway and looked up at Tony and me, “There’s….someone…in the woods…,” she wheezed as Nicky ran up behind her.”
“What did she say?” Tony said looking at me, the color running out of his face.
“I think she said she saw something in the woods.”
“Not something, someone,” Nicky said as she leaned over to catch her breath then looked up at me, “We saw someone back in the woods. They were a hundred yards or so from the fence line.”
“Are you sure?” I asked
.
Nicky nodded and gulped in the air.
“Fuck. Do you think it’s the neighbors?” I asked Tony.
He shook his head, “The Johnston’s are the only ones close and they’re too fucking old to be hiking all the way down here from their cabin. Let’s go take a look.”
I followed Tony down into the basement, “Just one second,” he said and walked to a closet in the corner of the basement and opened the door, I could faintly hear a few beeps like someone punching in a security code, then heard Tony open a secret door at the back of the closet. I walked up behind him and looked inside.
“Holy shit!” I said. Inside was a small, walk-in safe that had dozens of rifles, handguns, shotguns, and ammunition hung neatly on racks, “You’re uncle expecting to wage a war up hear?”
“He was a bit of a doomsday prepper,” Tony said, “Guess he was right, huh? You ever fire one of these?” he said pulling out what looked a lot like a M-16 automatic rifle.
“Yeah, in my two tours of ‘Nam I packed one of these. What do you think?”
“Ha, ha. It’s pretty easy to use, “Tony said, “Safety on and off here. Bullets in here. Point this end towards the bad guy and pull this thing here called a trigger. Replace ammunition like so,” he said demonstrating how to swap out a magazine clip, “I recommend having it set for semi-automatic like this, and remember if you go to full auto, the rifle will want to pull up and to your left so be ready to compensate. And don’t shoot me or any vital part of your body off. And, most importantly, don’t shoot me. Got it?”
“Got it,” replied nervously taking the machine gun and putting the safety back on. Tony grabbed another rifle, then handed me a bag and began feeding me rifle clips. He then took one for himself, filled it up, then grabbed a pair of binoculars, a 9 mm pistol, and pistol ammunition for good measure, “Let’s go, Buffalo Bill.”
“After you Lone Ranger,” I said as Tony sealed up the safe and we walked outside. It was a sign of how scared the girls were that they didn’t even comment on the rifles, they just watched us go, then went into the house locking the door behind them.
We walked quietly along the perimeter road until we reached the back fence. Tony pulled out the binoculars while I scanned the immediate forest a few yards from the fence. I didn’t see anything. Nothing moved or made a sound.
Suddenly, Tony froze looking out into the woods, “There! Goddamit, I see someone,” he dropped the binoculars and tried to spot the person with his eyes, “Yeah, there they are,” he said and handed me the binoculars.
At fist all I could see were trees and bushes, then I spotted something moving away from us, about three hundred yards out, “I see it,” I said. Whoever it was, was moving deeper into the woods and up the mountainside, “Maybe the Johnstons brought family with them? Or hikers maybe?”
“I don’t know,” Tony replied taking the binoculars back, “I can’t see a pack and I don’t think the Johnston’s had any family. And why would they be all the way down here?”
“I don’t know. See anything else?”
Tony scanned the forest for anther ten minutes before replying, “No. Nothing. Let’s head back. Tomorrow we’ll go up and talk with the Johnstons and see if they are OK. Ask them if they have seen anything strange.”
“Sounds good,” We went back to the cabin and talked to the girls about what we saw and what we were planning. After that, none of us talked much as the sun drifted down behind the mountain peak. That night I don’t think any of us slept.
* * *
The next morning we were all up early and even Dreysi came to see us off. We walked out into the cool and still gray morning air and into the garage. I walked over to the motorcycles and asked, “Motorcycles? It will get us there faster.
“Nah. We need to save the fuel, Evil Knievel,” Tony replied and stopped by the ATVs and said, “Two or one?”
“One. You drive, I’ll watch the forest.”
“All right but keep your hands about the belt line, homo.”
“Why do you have to be like that?” I said, “I’m not taking a helmet. Makes my vision feel restricted.”
“Suit yourself,” Tony said as he pulled on his helmet, “But when you get thrown from the bike and spread your brains, what little you have, all over some rock in the forests, I’ll tell Nicky your final words were ‘Take care of Nicky…’ and by ‘take care’ I mean…”
“I know what you mean,” I said unplugging the ATV, “Isn’t Nicky a little old for you? I thought you preferred grade schoolers or something.”
“Well, I’d do anything for a friend. And by ‘do anything’ I mean…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said as he rolled the bike out of the garage. Tony slung his rifle over his shoulder and mounted the bike, I quickly did the same and wrapped my arms around his waist.
“Hands above the belt,” Tony said.
“Don’t make this weird,” I replied.
“Is that a rifle in your pocket or are you just happy to see me,” he said, “Oh, wait, that is a rifle.”
I adjusted the rifle so that it slung across my back and said, “Can we just go now, Mr. Homophobe?”
“Yes we can,” he replied, “And away we go,” Tony said as we passed through the gate. Greer locked it up behind us as I looked over my shoulder. Seeing the three girls standing there made me feel completely and totally alone. Like I’d never see them again. Nicky waved at me as we passed around the bend in the road and I lost sight of them.
“They’ll be OK, right Tony?”
“They’ll be fine. Nothing can get into the cabin. Nothing.”
We rode down the trial, Tony watching the road and me scanning the forest around us but we saw nothing all the way to the branch in the trail leading up to the Johnston’s cabin. Tony turned right and headed up the steep trail. We rolled through the quiet woods unit the trail began to open up and turn into a dirt road. Far up ahead I could see the road bend and a little beyond that, the top of an actual log cabin poking up out of the trees.
We sped up a bit as we hit the dirt road and quickly made it to the front gate, “Gate’s open and it looks like…” Tony said then jerked on the braked so hard the back wheels of the ATV came up off the ground.
“Watch it Tony, you almost spilled…us…” I started as I looked over Tony’s shoulder and saw what he saw, “Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior,” I whispered making the sign of the cross over my chest.
I had never met the Johnstons, only heard about them in Tony’s many stories about his summers here in the woods. They seemed like nice people. Tony’d tell me that the old folks would ride their horses down and join Tony’s family for dinner or have the Garrands up for dinner at their place. They sounded like nice folks, good neighbors, the kind you’d want around in case you needed help. And they were quiet dead.
At least, what appeared to be Mr. Johnston was quiet dead having had most of his upper body eaten away to the bone and gristle. The remainder of his corpse was sprawled out on the cabin’s front porch with the eaten half hanging over the steps. I could see that whatever had been at him had spread bits and pieces of tissue and bone all up the stairs. It looked like a water fall of blood had flowed down and puddled in the dirt at the foot of the porch.
“What the fuck?” Tony whispered and quickly took off his helmet and unholstered his pistol. He was about to dismount from the ATV when the front door of the cabin opened and out stepped Mrs. Johnston and Tony froze where he was. At least what I thought had been Mrs. Johnston when she was alive. Whatever that thing was in the doorway was no longer her in the strictest sense of the word and didn’t actually looked to be alive either. In the strictest sense of the word.
The dead thing that had been Mrs. Johnston looked seriously worse for wear having had her entire left arm chewed away down to the bone along with a good portion of her chest. I could see her pale face and head were relatively intact as she stumbled out onto the porch and looked around as though uncertain as to why she was there.
Tony and I were rooted to the spot and all I could think of was “city miles” over and over again as we watched the thing weave back and forth like a hound that had lost its scent. Eventually she settled on the corpse of the late Mr. Johnston and decided that was what had gotten her attention. She shuffled over to the uneaten portion of his corpse, knelt down and began tearing great, fatty chucks of Mr. Johnston’s lower stomach out of his abdomen. I could hear Tony starting to gag when I heard something off to my left. I slowly, so slowly turned my head as saw not one fish or two fish or red fish or blue fish. Nope, just infected. And not even one or two or three infected my friend, but at least a dozen drifting in and out of the woods a few yards away from us. To my right, a bit further away, was another group of infected moving quietly in and out of the trees. Up behind the cabin, a few more had drifted into sight. None of them seemed to have spotted us but if we stayed here, it was only a matter of time before they did. Seconds at the most.
I slowly put my hand on Tony’s shoulder and whispered, “If you puke, we’re dead. Look to the left and right of us.”
Tony bit down on his fist and looked around us then back at Mrs. Johnston as she snapped something lose from inside of her late husband and pulled out something meaty and dripping from his abdominal cavity. That did it for Tony and he let out a low gurgle followed by a spray of semi-digested food. The greenish liquid sprayed around his fist and splattered the front of the bike and ground in front of us.
Mrs. Johnston paused from her feeding and looked around searching for the sound. She stood up and began to weave back and forth again while I slowly slide my rifle around and Tony got himself back under control. We sat there, Tony sitting in his spray of vomit, myself fingering the trigger of my rifle, and Mrs. Johnston looking for the source of the noise.
One of the other infected, what was once a young woman, dressed in hiking pants and a filthy flannel shirt, took that moment to stumble and fall over a dead tree. Mrs. Johnston’s opaque eyes snapped onto the sound and stared intently at the fallen dead woman for a fraction of a second, then returned to her work on Mr. Johnston. The other dead seemed to notice something was going on and began to shuffle around a little more vigorously, grunting, and slowly moving in our direction, “We need to go now,” I whispered to Tony who nodded and slipped his helmet back on, “Slowly.”
The Great Wreck Page 9