DEAD: Confrontation

by Brown, TW

  Juan didn’t listen as the couple continued to yammer at that babbling pace that seemed to be exclusive to hormonal teenagers. He waded through the room and peeked in box after box. There were all sorts of supplies. In fact, this was even better than a store run. It seemed that everything that they would want or need was in these boxes.

  Opening one, he discovered a variety of first aid supplies. In another were flares, flashlights, and even batteries. Then there was the dry goods and canned food. Water filters, filtered pitchers and little tablets that supposedly made water drinkable. And then there were the guns. He was pretty sure that some of these guns had to be illegal. These were the types of weapons that made the news every time some lunatic shot up a school or a mall. And he didn’t need to open all of the green boxes to know that they were full of ammunition.

  The excitement of this newfound treasure slowly gave way to questions. He picked up a stack of blankets that had been put in a bag and had all the air sucked out. This was some serious shit. These people were expecting something bad.

  So then…

  “Where is everybody?” Juan asked, interrupting the happy reunion.

  The girl looked over at Juan and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her face grew solemn and visibly sad. She opened her mouth a couple of times, but the façade that she’d so hastily thrown up as she tried to speak came down in a crash of tears. She pointed outside with a shaky hand.

  “You mean all those zombies?” Juan felt like it was a silly question, but he figured he should ask. The girl nodded. “Okay…then maybe you can clue me in on all this?” he said, trying not to sound exasperated as he gestured to the insane amount of boxes full of anything a person would probably need to survive.

  Donna sighed and then related a story that Juan tried very hard to keep a straight face through. It seemed that a small group of rich folks (as far as Juan was concerned, anybody with money to throw away on something that—up until recently—seemed so crazy, was rich) decided that the world was coming to an end soon. Whether it was a failed government that led the nation into anarchy, or the Chinese, they weren’t sure…but it was coming.

  This little group had all the right city connections and eventually had the construction of their wall approved. After that, it was simply a matter of controlling who moved in. They all stockpiled weapons and materials for this eventual doom. The problem was that none of them saw zombies as anything other than mindless nonsense. They were planning for a “real” event, not some horror geek’s fantasy.

  Donna and her friends used to joke that, while their parents were more than just a little eccentric, at least they had plenty of money. She only remembered asking her dad one time about all the preparation. He had told her in absolute seriousness, “Monsters are a fantasy created to put butts in seats in the theater. The real monster is man and his ignorance.”

  Unfortunately, she had been away when everything went down, so she couldn’t begin to speculate as to what happened. If Juan had to guess, he would say that all the talk in the world is useless. When you are looking into the eyes of a friend or loved one that has turned into a deader, and you have to crush their skull or shoot them in the face…things get real in a hurry.

  “So,” Juan clapped his hands, startling the two younger individuals who kept leaning into each other and whispering, “what we need to do is get all of this moved to the island. Judging by the looks of things, there is going to be more than one trip.”

  “What about the other houses?” Donna asked.

  “There’s more?” Juan was incredulous.

  “Probably,” Donna looked around and gave a nod, “everybody had a safe room, storage lockers, and also stuff in the attics. A few of the houses were designated as fall back locations. Ours was one of them. They had extra stuff. So, some of the others may not have as much, but a few.”

  “Tight—” Juan started.

  “Like a tigah,” Frank and Donna finished with a laugh.

  Juan scowled at the two…which only added to their enjoyment. As if the world was set against any sort of happiness or delight, the sound of hands slapping against the house began. Immediately, the pair sobered.

  “All right,” Juan patted down his assortment of weapons, “here is what we are gonna do. Frank, you and Donna start carrying everything out onto the back porch.”

  “What are you going to do?” Frank asked with a touch of concern.

  “I am going to get up on the roof and take a look around. If the road out front is clear, then we should be able to find a truck, get as much loaded up as possible, and get it close to the water.”

  “That seems a bit risky,” Donna whispered as if her being quiet now might make the zombies outside go away.

  “Being alive is risky,” Juan said far more matter-of-factly than he felt. “We can’t lose these supplies. This would set us up for the rest of the winter. We could avoid any further trips out until the weather changes.”

  “And maybe by then those things will have starved or something,” Frank offered hopefully.

  Juan didn’t say anything to that remark. From what he’d seen, the deaders showed no signs of kicking over any time soon. Whatever mysterious force had brought them seemed to be enough to keep them going. Besides, he doubted that they actually needed food. He’d seen some of those things eat people when they didn’t even have a stomach for the food to go into.

  “We are gonna have to fight our way out of here no matter what,” Juan finally said to the expectant faces staring at him as if he had some sort of solution.

  ***

  Brett dipped under the tree limb and brought his worn-looking ax down on the head of the most frightening creature he’d ever seen—which was saying a lot these days. The undead wolf collapsed just like a human zombie. It was instant. That was about the only positive thing that he could think of at the moment.

  Looking up the small hill that he had slipped and fallen down, he saw Chad and Ronni standing back-to-back, machetes drawn and swung any time that one of those cursed monsters got within range. Scott, who had been at his back until he stepped wrong and lost his footing, was trying to circle around so that he could have the father and daughter duo at his back and minimize his exposure.

  For just a second, Brett felt the twinge of betrayal. And then it was gone. These were not normal times. It was all well and good to watch out for each other, but the moment you became a liability, it was either cut the cord or drown with the poor sap. If he could make it back up the hill to them, it would all be fine. However, that was a nasty “if” at the moment.

  Three more of the wolf-zombies stood between him and his friends. They were not missing any limbs like their fallen companion, and thus, proved to be more mobile. They were still slow like any other undead (Brett thanked whatever god had seen to that), but their heads were smaller and lower to the ground. This made for some awkward swings when you were standing amongst pine trees in snow that was anywhere between knee and waist deep.

  He watched as the closest wolf slunk towards him. It seemed to know precisely where to step in order to avoid breaking the crust that had formed on this particular layer of snow and plunging through.

  Shifting himself just slightly so as to have all three of the abominations in an arc before him, Brett cocked his arm back and waited for the first wolf to close the distance. He only had a few seconds to think about the possibility of other animals being affected in the same way as these wolves.

  The creature took two more tentative steps forward. To Brett, it looked as if it were checking the surface of the snow to be certain that it would not cave underneath. If these things had the ability to learn…all bets were off as to how long humanity would survive.

  Judging the thing to be in range, Brett swung in an overhand arc and brought the flat end of the ax down hard. The last thing he needed now was for his weapon to get wedged in the skull of this attacker. He’d gotten lucky once after swinging out of pure instinct; he would not chance it again.r />
  The weapon came down with a sickening crunch. There was very little indication that he’d been successful other than the creature sinking into the snow and not moving. If he’d had the time to look, he would have seen the oblong depression in the wolf’s skull. The other two were coming from opposite sides and looked like they might arrive simultaneously. This was the real problem. The closer that they got, the more difficult it was for him to keep them both in view.

  Just as he was making the SWAG (silly-wild-assed-guess as his late grandpa used to say), a yell drew the focus of he and the wolves. Ronni had bounded down the hill about halfway and was closing in on the wolf to his left. He did not want to waste the distraction by waiting to be ensured of her success and lunged at the one on his right.

  He brought his weapon down again. This time his aim was just a bit off and he peeled back a section of matted fur as well as one ear, revealing bone and the dark smudge of what he assumed to be rotten blood. The wolf opened its mouth and snapped its jaws down on the piece of air where his hand had been only a split second ago.

  His second swing was accurate and the wolf was done. He looked up to see Ronni already wading through the snow to rejoin the others at the top of the hill. After catching his breath, he followed.

  “That’s the third group today,” Chad said as he went through a check of his gear.

  “I don’t think that tower has gotten any closer,” Scott snarled.

  He was referring to the fire watch tower that sat atop a hill on the other side of the valley that they could now look down into. Chad shielded his eyes and scanned the area.

  “Actually, I think this is the last little valley we will have to go through,” Ronni said and pointed. She had the binoculars up to her face. After a moment, she handed them to her dad.

  Everybody took a turn and followed to where her finger indicated. Sure enough, there was what looked like the base of the tower through some widespread pines.

  Still, the human eye plays tricks. When they had first spotted the tower over the tops of some trees, the thought was that they could reach it before nightfall. They had been mistaken. Two days later, they were still trying to stave off hypothermia, the occasional walker, and for the past day and a half, zombie wolves. They wanted to believe that they could reach that tower before dark.

  After checking his bindings, Chad pushed off and began the journey down another slope. At the bottom, they discovered another creek. The beauty of the ice formations that had accumulated was lost on them, but not the fact that they could refill their canteens.

  Just as the sky was turning to a star-filled bed of darkness, they reached their destination. It had cost them five of their precious glow sticks, but the payoff had been worth it.

  Together, they climbed the switchback staircase and reached the big, open tower. The most welcome sight came from the woodstove in the very center of the single open room. Within the hour, they had a small fire burning. Huddled close for added warmth, the foursome drifted off to the sleep that comes so fast when the body is beyond exhaustion. Only Chad woke once to add a few more pieces of wood to the fire. He thought he heard a distant cry carrying on the still night air, but he was simply too tired to care.

  ***

  “I always wanted to go to London,” Gemma sighed.

  “Wait,” Vix pulled up and turned to face the younger girl, “you’ve never been to London…ever?”

  “My parents just never liked the city. They thought Basingstoke was too big. If they’d had their way, we would have lived out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Some would say Basingstoke is in the middle of nowhere,” Vix grumbled.

  “I guess I expected more…fires,” Gemma sighed as she climbed up on the back of a panel van to get a better look at the looming city.

  “It has been months,” Vix pointed out. “I am sure there were plenty. But they have all burned out by now more than likely.”

  “Still…” Gemma shielded her eyes needlessly against the cloud cover.

  “I don’t want to spend too much time out here in the open,” Vix prompted.

  They had followed the M3 for days until they came to the M25 interchange. From there they had travelled north in search of the M4. Things had gotten a bit tense around Heathrow, but Vix had insisted that they keep low.

  After bypassing the fourth or fifth group of survivors, Gemma had asked why they weren’t at least checking them out to see if they might be friendly. Vix had reminded her how “friendly” certain members of their previous group had been.

  “So you aren’t going to trust anybody?” Gemma asked with a mixture of doubt and concern.

  “Not until I have found what I am looking for,” Vix replied.

  “And you are letting me tag along, but can’t be bothered to tell me what we are looking for,” Gemma grumbled.

  “It’s complicated,” Vix said with a sigh. “You see, if I tell you and you think I am daft, then you might just take off.”

  “And you would miss me!” Gemma practically squealed.

  The truth was, she thought that she would need an extra set of eyes and hands when the time came and she reached her destination. But if that made Gemma feel better, then that was fine with her.

  “We still have a long way to go,” Vix said as they climbed over the fence that ran alongside the A40. The road had switched over a ways back and they were coming to a big, circular interchange.

  They passed a statue, but Vix had seen something that piqued her interest. She made her way to an archway and risked a look inside. Nothing was moving. That was a big plus.

  “What’s this?” Gemma whispered, being careful to make sure that she did not startle her friend. They’d had enough talks about that over the past several days to last her a lifetime. Sometimes she thought that Vix was worse than her own mum.

  “I don’t want to get your hopes up.” Vix moved through the arch and looked around. She sighed and headed in despite the obvious sacking that this place had been subjected to by frantic individuals hoping to survive.

  “Why would anybody want to shoot pigeons?” Gemma whispered as she observed one of the signs posted just inside the arch. “Seems a bit cruel.”

  “Clay pigeons,” Vix replied, doing her best to stifle a laugh. “They are discs that get launched into the sky for people to shoot.”

  “Okay…” Gemma let that word hang in the air for a bit. “I still don’t get it.”

  “Bird hunters use this as practice so that when the birds come out of the bushes and try to fly away, a hunter can hit them on the move.”

  “Sounds cruel,” Gemma shrugged as they approached the open entry way to the West London Shooting School.

  “Yes, well I was hoping that we might get lucky, but I should have known that places like this would be hit early.”

  “You seem to know a lot about all of this sort of thing.” Gemma climbed over the broken door behind Vix and froze.

  Against the far wall was an arc of dried blood and bits. A handful of bodies lay sprawled on the floor. Red and green casings for a variety of shotgun shells littered the floor. None of the bodies had much of their heads remaining.

  Vix moved in for a closer look. Gemma wrinkled her nose and decided that she could see well enough from the doorway thank you very much.

  “This is why I am not interested in trying to make contact with any of the groups of living people that we have passed,” Vix whispered. She used a stick to roll the nearest body over. Her suspicions were confirmed.

  “I don’t understand.” Gemma took a tentative step closer.

  “None of these people were bitten. They weren’t infected. Somebody had them line up against this wall and then they shot them.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because, for one thing, zombies don’t line up for folks to shoot them for one. For another, not one person has a scratch on their body. And from what is left of their heads, I don’t see anything other than the damage caused by the guns us
ed to kill them.”

  Vix took a cursory look around, but she already knew that she would find nothing of use here. It was no surprise. Still, she would have felt silly if she hadn’t at least checked.

  They exited the building and continued on their way. As had been the case for the last few days, they only encountered an occasional zombie. When they did come across them in greater numbers, they were usually surrounding one building or another. More than likely, whoever had been inside either managed to sneak away, died of starvation, or threw themselves into the horde. Those large groups were so focused on the last thing that had drawn them that, as long as she and Gemma remained quiet, they could easily slip past.

  That night they made camp atop the center of three conical mounds in a place called the “Northolt & Greenford Country Park” overlooking the roads and the surrounding area. From their vantage point, they watched as several small dots of light flickered into existence when the night fell.

  ***

  Danny sat by himself away from the trio huddled around the small fire. Jody was watching intently as Katherine was running through a series of signs. Then, Selina would translate. Jody would make very slow and deliberate attempts to duplicate those same signs and gestures.

  Part of him wanted to join in. However, he was still having some issues when it came to dealing with the fact that he had killed a man. His rational mind told him that he had done the right thing. Still, it was one thing to fire into a crowd of zombies, or even return fire when dealing with insurgents over in Iraq. It was quite another to kill one of your own. And despite how everything had played out over the past few months, Charles “Slider” Monterro had been a fellow soldier.

  If that were not bad enough, he could have sworn that the bastard had a grin on his face after Danny had put the shaft of a crossbow bolt through the man’s chest. That was what he kept seeing every time he closed his eyes: that grin.

  “Hey, Danny, you hungry?” Jody had come over and was standing above him holding a can of something.