“Is there running water down here?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” said Gunner, never taking his eyes off Parker.
“How were you planning on going to the bathroom?”
Gunner pointed at a large, shiny white bucket in the corner.
“Gross,” Max said.
“I'm not going in that,” Gemma said indignantly.
“Suit yourself,” Gunner said. “The only other options are to hold it or risk going upstairs and taking your chances.”
“Will you come with me?” Gemma turned to Max
“Anything beats sitting down here with all this testosterone,” Max shrugged. She turned and climbed the ladder back up to Gunner's bedroom.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Holt tried to explain it again to the cowboy.
“Thunderdome is not far from here,” he said. “By my calculations it's just a few streets over and down. That's where my buddy is. That's where I need to get.”
“Your buddy is dead,” the cowboy said in a sympathetic voice. “I hate to tell you this but unless God has chosen him or he's really fucking lucky there's about a snowballs chance in hell he made it past last night.”
“You're wrong,” Holt replied. “He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't die without telling me. He's strong.”
“The dead are at peace now,” the cowboy explained. “They are with God and Jesus as he prepares to join us in our fight. There's no reason to be upset for your friend. All's I'm saying is that the dead shall bury the dead. We got work to do, smashing in heads.”
“What harm is there is taking a look?” Holt roared, silencing the cowboy. “I mean it's not like it fucking matters which direction we head right? Fucking zombie demons are everywhere and our job is to kill as many as we can. So why not take a minute to check in on my best fucking friend and see if he made it? That's all I'm asking.”
“You're gonna be the death of me,” the cowboy said with a shit eating grin as he knocked back two more little green pills. “You know that?”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” the cowboy said. “But I don't want to go on foot.”
“What other choice do we have?”
“The fat bastard who used to own this place has a Cadillac in the garage,” the cowboy said. “I'm in no condition to drive but you can still navigate. Besides you're the only one who knows where we're going.”
“Do you really think we'll make it a block in a car?” Holt stared at him.
“What fucking choice do we have?”
They argued for a while longer about whether or not to load up any supplies from the house. In the end they opted to just scavenge along the way for what they needed. The cowboy climbed into the passenger side with the gun stuffed down the front of this pants and the crowbar in his hands. He was long out of ammo but convinced they'd come across some in their travels.
Holt fired the car up and got it running until it was warmed all the way up. The power was out so he forced open the garage door to a street full of chaos. Not a moment after the door went up they were besieged by angry former humans with an insatiable appetite for human flesh. Holt raced back and locked himself in the car. Six or seven zombies surrounded the car and began to shake it, rubbing their blood and puss covered hands and arms against the windows and howling in frustration that they couldn't get to their intended victims.
The cowboy turned to him with a smile.
“Well? What are you waiting for Hoss?”
Holt put the car in gear and tore forward, running over a fat woman in a checkered dress. The car slowed as the writhing corpse underneath it caught with the front axle and smeared onto the concrete.
“Go ahead and give her some gas to clear that hump,” the cowboy chuckled. Holt stepped on the pedal and they slowly inched forward as the engine revved. Then in one violent burst they cleared the woman underneath the tires and shot out like a rocket. Holt couldn't control the car and they veered off the driveway and onto the lawn, crashing through hedges and finally taking out the mailbox before careening into the street. There was a loud crack as the mailbox and pole hit the windshield. Holt heard the tinkle of broken glass but didn't have time to investigate further seeing as how the streets were awash with hundreds of blood covered zombies.
No time to hesitate, thought Holt as he floored it again and began mowing them down. Most were simply knocked out of the way but a few shot up onto the long hood of the Cadillac and rolled over the top of the car. The ones he hit got back up almost immediately and began pursuing them. Holt didn't see a single living soul in that gruesome crowd.
The mob of undead monsters thinned as he reached the end of the block, hooking left onto a side street he recognized. He knew where they were now. He'd been right. They were closer to Thunderdome than he had thought. The warm feeling began to spread across his chest again. He didn't know if it was the joy of making a radical escape and coming out alive against the odds or the next dose of the oxy kicking in. He realized to his surprise he didn't care.
“Did you see that last clown?” Holt turned to the cowboy and made a horrifying discovery. The pole from the mailbox had pierced the front windshield and gone straight through the cowboy's head, pegging him to the passenger seat like a scarecrow.
“Oh Jesus fucking Christ,” Holt said, trying not to throw up. His eyes darted from the road to the cowboy, trying to take in what had happened in bits and pieces without slowing down and making himself a target. “Cowboy you sonofabitch! What the fuck?”
The pole had gone in clean at his left eye. A thick bright trail of red blood drooled from the wound. Other than that the cowboy actually looked peaceful. He'd died without making a sound.
“I never even got to thank you,” Holt said. “But I will. God has called you home. That's why it was so quick and painless. You're just moving behind the scenes to talk to the generals, the angels that are preparing to join in the fight. You tricky bastard. I will see you soon!”
Holt laughed and cracked open a new beer, intentionally swerving and taking the car up on the sidewalk. He cautiously sipped the beer as he mowed down several more zombies.
“Don't worry cowboy,” he said. “I'm gonna get as many of them as I possibly can.”
The trip back through Sunrise to Thunderdome consisted of several more blocks of running down zombies in the heavy Cadillac. Holt kept talking to the cowboy the whole time. He wished he'd learned the guys name. He wished he'd had a chance to say goodbye. Deep in his heart though he knew this was his life now, the life of a soldier for God, and that death was just a temporary transition off the battlefield.
He pulled up to Thunderdome and parked on the curb. The front of the apartments were strewn with blood and lifeless bodies but there were no immediate signs of zombies. Holt got out, scattering empty beer cans in his wake, and picked up his trusty crowbar.
“You stay here now you hear?”
Holt laughed raucously at his own bad humor and walked towards the apartments. In the courtyard he found Vance taking a leak on the grass.
“What the fuck?” Vance stared at him in shock.
“You're friends with McAnus right?”
“I'm Vance,” he replied, looking dazed. “Wait, what was your name again?”
“Holt,” he replied, shifting the crowbar between his hands.
“Right,” Vance said.
“Have you seen him?”
“Vance?”
He turned and saw a young naked girl walking out of the apartment behind them. She had bite marks on her shoulder and arms like sleeve tattoos.
“Go back inside and wait,” he said annoyed.
“What's taking so long?”
“I said go back inside,” he screamed. “I'll be right in.”
She turned and sulked back into the apartment. A low roar sounded from around the corner of the apartments.
“Shit,” Vance said, rubbing his nose. “They're attracted to sound. Get inside quick!”
Without another word
Vance turned and darted for the apartment. Holt followed him. Vance locked them in. The place reeked like cat piss and dust. Vance held a finger up to his lips as he peaked out of the blinds to keep Holt quiet. Outside a large man with half his face melted off and only one arm looped in lazy circles smelling the air. After what felt like a small eternity he turned and moved towards the parking lot.
Fuck, thought Holt. He's probably going to feast on the cowboys freshly deceased remains. I should have buried him.
“That was fucking close,” Vance said in a whisper. He turned and walked into the bedroom motioning for Holt to follow him. Inside the young girl lay on a mattress with no sheets on the floor snorting blue powder off a huge mirror.
“What the fuck is that?” Holt pointed at her.
“That's our end of the world party man,” Vance said with a giggle. “We're going to do crank and fuck each other silly until the whole thing comes crashing down on us.”
“How old are you?” Holt looked seriously disturbed.
I shouldn't be here, he thought. I'm one of God's soldiers now.
“What are you the fucking cops now?”
“Don't worry,” she said, rolling onto her back and spreading her legs. A smile crossed her face as she exposed herself to Holt. “I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“Ain't she beautiful?” Vance snickered. “And so very tight.”
“She looks infected,” Holt said. “You both do. You've got the devil in you for sure.”
Holt thumped his crowbar in his hands as he stared at them.
“Chill out,” the girl said, looking nervous. “Do some lines with us. I've always wanted to have a threesome.”
“Yeah man,” Vance said, a thin layer of perspiration beaded across his brow. “What's the big deal?”
“You're violating God's laws,” Holt said.
They both laughed at him.
“The world as we know it has ended and you want to quote me the Bible?” Vance put his hand on Holt's shoulder. Holt looked over to see there were bite marks running up and down Vance's arms as well. “McAnus always said you were a dick. I think he just didn't get your brand of humor.”
“I'm not kidding,” Holt said, stepping back. “You've been bit. You are one of them now. It's just a matter of time before both of you transform.”
“All the more reason to party hard,” the girl said, rolling over and snorting a huge line. Black blood began to drip down her face when she came back up and she rubbed it away.
The smile slid off Vance's face. He started looking really nervous.
“Look,” Vance started, “I'll tell you what I know and then you've got to go. Deal?”
“Deal,” Holt said with a smile.
“Okay so when everything started I just locked myself in and hid,” Vance said. “Hours went by and it got all quiet, sort of. I mean there were still people out there eating each other, but they ran out of fresh meat so to speak. That's when I got really worried.”
“Go on,” Holt said calmly.
“So I heard gun fire and then voices,” Vance said. “I went to follow the sound of the commotion and saw McAnus and Parker going into the crazy ex-military dudes apartment.”
“What happened next?”
“I don't know,” Vance said. “They shut and locked the door just as a fresh wave of creepy dead guys came along. I turned and ran but they were in every direction I headed. That's when I saw her.”
Holt and Vance turned and stared at the girl. She smiled at them as she played with herself, rolling around high out of her mind.
“She was being attacked by three guys,” Vance said. “At first I thought they were raping her but then the closer I got I could see they were biting her arms.”
“What did you do?”
“What do you think I did?” Vance looked upset. “I fought them off and brought her back here.”
“Is that how you got bit?”
“Fucking eh,” Vance replied. “I'm a fucking hero here man, trying to enjoy what little time I've got left before God knows what happens.”
Holt smiled.
“That's a good story,” he said. “Tell you what, I'm going to do you a huge favor.”
“Oh yeah?” Vance smiled, relaxing a little.
“Boys,” the girls cooed to them from the mattress. “Let's not waste any more time fighting when we could be doing so many better things.”
“I couldn't agree more,” Holt said. Vance smiled and let out a sigh.
“Man you really had me there,” he said. “For a moment I thought you might be trying to kill me. Come get a rail of this shit. It's amazing by the way. I think it's the cleanest meth I've ever tasted in my life.”
Vance turned towards the girl and Holt wasted no time bringing down his crowbar into his skull. Vance fell over with no more than a thud as blood poured from his skull. The girl opened her mouth to scream but barely got a squeak out before Holt silenced her with a series of hard blows to the neck and head. Standing over them he made sure they weren't coming back.
“Sorry guys,” Holt said in earnest. “But it was for your own good.”
He turned and headed back out into the courtyard just in time to hear a loud explosion rock the grounds and lift him off his feet.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Max washed her hands in the sink for what felt like a small eternity, turning over in her head what Gunner had said to them. It all kinda made sense in a sick way. Still, Parker had made a valid point. Gunner was a paranoid creep, an ex-military whack job and a self-confessed conspiracy nut. Was he the one they should be trusting with their lives?
I wish I could talk to my father, she thought. He’d know what to do. She said a silent prayer in her heart that he was still alive, that this madness hadn't taken him away from her forever. The thought of a world without him in it was too much to bear. She fought back tears.
No, she told herself in a stern voice. You didn’t shed tears when this happened and you’re not going to shed them now. Max knew that if she let her guard down now she would be utterly lost. She regretted the emotion she'd shown Parker when he came to her room. It made her sick to her stomach to think she'd been so weak. It wasn't going to happen again. She promised herself that much.
Pull it together, her inner voice commanded. She splashed cold water on her face.
She'd felt out of control since the moment that guy had attacked the girl behind her apartment. She splashed cold water on her face again. It had to have an effect at some point, she figured. She heard Gemma stifle a sob behind her on the toilet. How did she get stuck with this vapid, trendy mall chick? She was like the epitome of a Valley Girl, even though she probably didn't even know what that meant. Max didn't understand how it had come to this, with her being left to babysit a rich, spoiled girlie girl.
“How you doing?” Gemma didn't answer. Max figured that she was still in a state of shock over what it took to get into the apartment, seeing all those people gunned down.
Gunner was right about one thing, Max thought. Girls like Gemma don’t survive things like this. It was true. They froze up when they needed to move. They screamed when they should be quiet. They went into shock and never came back out. She was going to have to adapt fast if she didn't want to become a Happy Meal for the undead. The only reason she was still with them was because she'd been with Travis and Parker when this all went down. Under any other circumstances, she would be out there with the rest of the undead freaks.
“You still with us?” Max wasn't cut out to play the supportive role. It just went against everything she'd grown to believe about herself. She wasn't the compassionate type. She was tough, elusive, maybe even mysterious. Supportive never made the list.
“I'm fine,” Gemma said at last, sounding like she was trying to make herself believe it. Max rolled her eyes. This was not how she had expected to spend the end of the world, locked in a room with a jock, a geek, a princess, and a basket case. It was like a twisted version of the Breakfa
st Club. She smirked as she realized that made her Judd Nelson, the criminal.
“Let's get back with the group,” Max said. “We've got to figure out what our next move is gonna be.”
A loud grunt came from the living room. Both girls froze. They hadn't bothered to check the rest of the apartment, assuming they were alone. Gunner had huge bolted locks on the door and had boarded up the windows. When they got back he locked them in and they went straight down to the command center under his bed. No one ever thought to check the kitchen for uninvited guests that might have found their way in during Gunner's absence.
Stupid, thought Max, I’m such an idiot.
Gemma pulled her panties up just as the ghoulish face of a former neighbor came into sight. He was still wearing his work uniform and the name tag sewn on read JIMENEZ. His face looked swollen and feverish. His eyes were jaundiced and blood ran freely from his nose into his open mouth. He roared up at them fiercely then sprang forward with incredible speed. Max had little time to do more than react. She grabbed the door and pulled it towards her, falling into the bathtub but using the door as a shield. The infected man shot right past her and grabbed Gemma, his cold hand wrapping around her leg. The strong penetrating odor coming from his mouth was the worst thing she had ever encountered in her life. It smelled like stagnant water filled with the rotting corpses of animals. Gemma kicked at him with her free leg but she was unable to free herself from his chilled iron grip. He brought his mouth closer to her leg, preparing to tear a chunk out of her as she pulled away. Gemma closed her eyes and screamed from the bottom of her lungs, flinching as she prepared to feel his teeth tear into her skin.
Max, placing her hands on both sides of the shower wall and powering through with her back muscles, brought her right foot up in front of her, swinging out of the deep tub. She followed through with her left foot, her Doc Martin boot connecting with the side of Jimenez's face and sending him onto his back. Gemma skittered out, slipping on the now piss wet tile in her hurry and smacking her face on the side of the wall. Her arms scrambled on the slick surface trying to keep herself upright, but found no purchase. She tumbled in a panicky cartwheel back to the ground. Jimenez had already flipped back over, the blow to the head hadn't slowed him for even an instant. He was crawling on all fours toward Max with his mouth open and teeth snapping at the air. Max took a cautious step back, making sure not to trip over Gemma in the process, her left hand finding the metal trash bin. She was prepared when Jimenez lunged at her, quickly moving out of his reach and swinging the basket around until it collided full force with his face. Gemma was up again. She screamed uselessly for a second time. Max turned and pulled the metal trash can toward her, scraping it loudly on the floor. She had just enough time to see that Gemma was blocking their escape, eyes closed, her hands uselessly clutching the sides of her head.
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