Life Among the Dead (Book 4): The End

by Daniel Cotton

  A row boat from the pier was placed in the water. As covertly as possible the men propelled them to the yacht. Two motorized vessels were tethered to the larger one like baby ducks following their mother. The row boat joined the procession as the three made up the ladder.

  They crouched on the deck until all were on, then tip toed toward the ladder well below deck to take the woman by surprise. Rocky had never been on a mission where women were brought into camp, none that were successful anyway, rescued from the apocalypse for a life of chores and arranged marriage. She felt sick to her stomach but she couldn’t protest.

  The woman gasped at the sight of the armed trio that appeared in the home she had made for herself and her two boys. Rocky gauged their ages to be seven and thirteen, the oldest was quick to grab his rifle and aim it right back at them. He pointed the barrel at each in turn, not sure where to keep it trained.

  Rocky lowered her pistol, her teammates did not. They laughed as the young man got himself between the marauders and his family.

  “Put it down, kid,” Zack ordered. “We’re not gonna hurtcha. We just want to have a little fun, that’s all.”

  In that, Rocky knew these guys weren’t going to capture the family and bring them back to the others. They weren’t at the head of the line to get the woman as their bride, why buy the cow when you can steal all the milk you want, she figured.

  “This is a nice place,” Cole said approvingly. “I think we’ll keep it.”

  “We need to get back to the others,” Rocky reminded her team.

  “Fuck the others,” Zack retorted, spitting on the deck. “You can go back to that hot little wife of yours, Rocky. Cole and I will chill here with ours.”

  “Get off my ship!” the youth screamed, his voice cracked robbing him of any authority he was going for. He aimed his assault rifle with conviction.

  Again the men laughed at him, figuring he hadn’t the stones to fire. They were wrong, the second one of them attempted to take a step closer, he pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. Again and again he pulled the trigger to no avail, just a weak click.

  The weapon was snatched away in the blink of an eye. The boys were shoved into the booth seat of the dining area and given a warning. “Ain’tcha seen Wild Kingdom? When a lion takes over a new pride, he kills the spawn of the previous king. Don’t piss us off.”

  The other man sauntered up to the woman, he tenderly reached for her, an off-putting familiarity that made her cringe. She shied away from him, tried to make herself as small as possible but he wouldn’t let her. He grabbed her by her shirt, about to remove it as she cried. He would have had her disrobed and ready for who knows what if his head hadn’t suddenly exploded in a shower of blood and gore all over the terrified woman and the walls.

  Zack turned to where the shot came from and saw Rocky standing with the smoking gun. He became enraged, torn between shock and anger. She eased his conflict with a bullet between the eyes.

  The family was puzzled by the surprising turn of events. It wasn’t until the pistol was lowered that they united, huddling in the booth. The oldest boy again raised his M16 at the intruder, regardless of her actions she still didn’t belong there. His mother laid a hand upon the weapon and eased it off their savior.

  “Sorry for the…everything,” Rocky said. “Can I see your gun a sec?”

  “No,” the young man replied flatly.

  “You gotta pull out the thingy near the butt, then hit the button on the side to return the bolt. I learned how to use one recently.” They watched as she dug through the pockets of her fellow raiders, most of her findings she kept for herself, but tossed ammunition they could use towards their feet. Once her scavenging was complete she dragged the men in turn to the ladder well then commenced to heft them topside.

  Seeing the woman struggle with the weight of the first body, the mother wordlessly assisted her by taking his feet. Together they heaved the men over the side of the yacht.

  “I’m Susan,” the mother offered as Rocky watched her teammates sink to the bottom of the ocean.

  “Rocky.” The men she had travelled with disappeared, she continued to look down at the water without emotion. “See ya,” she said suddenly, and headed back the way she boarded.

  “Wait,” Susan called to her. “Would you like to stay with us?”

  “I can’t,” Rocky said without looking back.

  “Can we come with you?”

  “The place I’m going to is full of men just like this,” she explained. “You’ve got a good thing here. If you cruise south, the Coast Guard will take care of you. Or, if you ever have to return to shore there’s a town called Rubicon in Georgia, go there. The folks seem decent, at least decent enough.”

  42

  “I don’t know about this, Brass,” Rough Rider nervously says onboard the newly commissioned Double Decker bus. With its military beige paintjob, and vintage style pinup girl on its sides it looks like a bomber, .50 caliber machine guns line both decks earning the bus its name, the Gunship.

  “Relax, Rough Rider,” Brass tries to ease the man’s nerves for the fifth time since they departed Rubicon, he doesn’t even look up from the notebook he reads from. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a part of life. It’ll be over before you know it,” now he has taken to reciting any cliché advice that comes to mind.

  “I know, but maybe it’s too soon for this,” the man says, staring ahead through the windshield at the road ahead and the world they rush towards.

  “No time like the present. No sense putting it off any longer. We all knew this day would come.”

  “ETA, one minute,” Lady Luck says from the driver’s seat.

  “Let’s gear up! 5, 6, 7, 8!” Brass says closing his notes, he’s as prepared as he’ll ever be for this.

  Their objective comes into view, the bus slows and Rough Rider gets a good look. “Fuck. There’s an awful lot of them,” he mutters to himself.

  “You’ll be fine,” Lady Luck assures as she navigates obstructions on the road. “They won’t bite.”

  “All right! Let’s do this, people!” Brass hollers for everybody to go through the open door. “Move! Move! Move! Wait…Abby, let me straighten that. Who taught you how to tie a tie?”

  “Self-taught,” the taller man bends down so Brass can fix his necktie.

  “It shows, and it’s embarrassing.”

  “There she is,” Rough Rider spots Peace Maker at the rendezvous amid a crowd of townsfolk. Her white gown blindingly reflects the early afternoon sun but he can’t look away, she’s too radiant in the field of wild flowers and tombstones. “Like a fuckin’ angel,” he whispers to himself.

  The new arrivals straighten their formal wear. Brass can see every trace of trepidation has melted away as he watches Rough Rider gaze at his bride-to-be. It makes him smile. “Are we ready?”

  Rough Rider tears his eyes off Peace Maker, blinking them as if waking from a dream. “Yup. Thanks for doing this, Brass.”

  “All part of the job. Don’t mention it.”

  “I know this is tough for you, considering…”

  “Don’t mention that either,” Brass says, gesturing for the group to head over and join the rest of the town.

  Once everyone has taken their positions, and the murmuring dies down, Brass opens his book. He has practiced this so many times he knows what he wishes to say by heart, but he wishes to have it on hand should he become misty eyed and need a second to collect himself. “Dearly beloved,” he addresses almost every citizen of Rubicon, every soldier, every civilian, and every single sentry they could spare from the posts that surround their territory. “We are gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Although I cannot brag about bringing these two together, it gives me great pride to marry Wade and Jackie before you all today. They knew one another before the world died, dated briefly and went their separate ways. Then, as if being given a second chance, they found themselves thrown into a sea of strangers
. Upon sighting one another’s familiar face it was love at second sight.

  “They went through boot camp together. I knew then that this was truly a great pairing. They displayed teamwork that typically takes time to foster, could anticipate one another’s moves, and knew when to lend a helping hand. Everything needed in a marriage.”

  Brass has to take a second and glance at his book, his eyes have begun to water. He hopes the assembled haven’t noticed the way his voice cracked slightly when saying the word ‘marriage’.

  “Another fond memory I have of the two was actually a difference in opinion we had. I had mentioned my plan to build a pen to entrap wild game; deer, turkeys, geese. They argued that it would take the sport out of it, make it too easy. I had countered with the suggestion that they could always wear a blindfold and make a game out of it.”

  The audience chuckles.

  “Wade came back with, ‘It would be like shooting fish in a barrel’. To which I said ‘Exactly!’”

  Brass must wait for another wave of chuckles to subside.

  “Wade told me that we were using the expression differently, I was using it to describe a readily available source of protein. I gave up the idea, let the two of them hunt the old fashioned way. Besides, at that point I was craving fish anyway.”

  Another bout of laughter pauses the ceremony.

  “In this debate I saw that they should not only soldier for us, but also be appointed to the caring of the animals. They are not only providers, but willing to work hard to do so. You would expect a person that has been tasked with turning a living thing into food to be heartless and cruel, but it actually takes a lot of heart. It takes love.”

  The sentiment is allowed to sink in. Brass turns to the man known to everyone as Rough Rider. “Do you, Wade, take Jackie to be your post-apocalyptic wife? To have and to hold, from this day to your last? To cherish and protect with every breath, and all the strength you can muster?”

  “I do,” the groom replies, looking deeply into his bride’s eyes as he vows to every word.

  Brass intentionally left off the standard ‘sickness and in health’ line as not to damper the joy everyone feels, the last thing folks would want to be reminded about today is what would happen if one of the two should truly become sick. He recites the vow to Jackie, she says ‘I do’ with a smile and a tear rolling down her cheek.

  “With the power vested in me by all of you, I pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

  The couple kisses and the town erupts in applause. Once he finds a brief lull in the clapping and cheering Brass screams over the roar, “I give you Mr. and Mrs. Corbeil!”

  The reception to follow, catered by Soul Train, is being held in the school gym. Once the place was cleaned up and decorated it looked very nice, you’d never guess the space was recently used for training. Another round of boot camp was held primarily in the gym, a zombie prom theme gave the couple the idea to hold the party here. They joyfully look at their guests from their table, all the people they’ve come to know and love gathered to celebrate their union.

  Remembering her time spent in this gymnasium, under a pile of corpses that writhed crushingly as they tried to devour her through her armor, Vida Calavera almost couldn’t return, now she’s glad she did. The place looks beautiful all lit up, the ordinarily harsh lighting is shining down through balloons and white linen drapery. She stands with her close friend Gabe in the receiving line, waiting their turn to tell Wade and Jackie ‘congratulations’.

  Speeches are made, toasts are given. Everyone enjoys the elegant meal their resident chef has prepared. They dance into the night until the newlyweds climb their horses to take off to their honeymoon. The two will be spending a week alone at the town’s newest outpost, the peach farm they recently acquired. It’ll be a working vacation, there’s still a lot to do to get the place functional, work out the kinks in their security system, but it will be just the two of them and that’s all they could ask for.

  Not a person involved in the wedding, not a single guest, thinks about the troubles of the world. They are able to get their minds off of the dead and the barbarians for a night. Tonight, they not only celebrate love but also hope, hope for the future. This confirms that one day they may return to a normal way of life.

  43

  Daily runs for weapons have built a massive arsenal for Kenny and his people, it’s an arms race against the Rubies though the larger, more organized community doesn’t know it. A cache has been found at a small National Guard post that they exploit, taking away trunkful’s as if mining the armory for gold.

  He senses his impending ‘Ides of March’ as his interactions with his men become tense, they don’t like how far the Rubies are spreading, the fact that their enemies prosper while they have to scrounge. They must all live in fear while the other side appears to not even notice them, driving around with their music blaring, not at all attempting to be covert.

  Along with the amassing wealth of ammo and ordinance, Kenny has been trying to sway them back like a politician, to gain favor over his detractors and be in the good graces of the majority. He gives longwinded speeches on a daily basis all with the same ‘We will prevail’ message. Spotting a large group of his people, the man prepares for today’s address.

  “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” he says with forced confidence. “That’s what they used to say. It’s not the case in this fight. Joining them means becoming a mindless zombie. This leaves only the other option. Am I right?”

  He waits for affirmation from his people, all of them shouting ‘Right!’ in unison. They don’t. Perhaps they missed their que, he thinks as he continues on. “Since this started, I was alone. Alone in this fight. I realized I would always be fighting. There came a point where I was fighting in hope of either outcome, like flipping a coin, victory or a good honest death. Since meeting you all and becoming so close, I’m leaning more and more towards wanting victory each and every day…”

  Kenny has paused, hoping the sentiment he intended his statement to have would resonate with them. They all stare at him blankly as he paces among them. “We’ve become more than a group, we’ve become a family. A family with a common enemy. The Rubies!”

  That earns him a grumble of agreement. “We hate them!” he improvises and gets a collective ‘Yeah!’ that makes him tingle. “I would take any one of you over a dozen of their kind any day. Rocky, Twitchy, Dirt Bag…Um…the blonde guy…” he struggles to list his people as he looks them in their eyes.

  “They think they’re better than us!” he scornfully exclaims. “Well, they’re not. In truth, they’re scared. Why else would they need so many outposts and awesome vehicles? Why else would they need the body armor and organization?”

  Though most of his men nod, buying into what he tries to sell them, he himself realizes looking at the dirty faces of his rag tag group of savages that that’s all they are. Savages. He’s aligned himself with the worst element; thugs, bandits, and rapists. He can fool himself no longer, they are the villians.

  “Kenny!” one of his guys says, urgently running over.

  He hasn’t a clue what his name is. “Hey…Sport…what’s up?” he asks.

  “Our spotter just reported in,” the young guy says shaking a hand held radio. “There’s a bright yellow Hummer coming through from the South.”

  “All right,” Kenny shrugs off the news. “We’ll keep our eyes on it. Everyone, get the word out, we need to hunker down until it passes. I don’t want them…”

  “Kenny,” the condescending voice of Garret, one of Kenny’s few most vocal detractors, interrupts his orders like a parent giving a child a warning. “It’s the military.”

  “He said it’s ‘bright yellow’. The military doesn’t own anything bright yellow, that’s ridiculous. Try hiding in that thing, am I right?”

  “The only movement we ever see coming from the south is the military,” Garret reminds their leader. “They go to Ruby, then come righ
t back through. And, every time you have us hide like roaches. Not this time.”

  Garret has his own idea on how to handle this, an idea he doesn’t share with anyone just yet. “We’re gonna give them something to be scared of.”

  ####

  “They’re no better than gnats, or those annoying little flies that appear in my kitchen every summer,” Brass describes their neighbors to their visitors. “But, they can be unpredictable. Best to avoid them.”

  The folks in the yellow Hummer have come from Story Book Land with urgent news, they have a vaccine for the virus, a way for people to die and stay dead. They also bring bad tidings, there’s a new threat on its way. A massive group of the dead that could number in the millions is heading down the coast like a storm. These aren’t the average zombies, these ghouls have been irradiated by a nuclear plant in the northeast. The radiation has soaked into their decaying tissue and may act as a preservative, it has also altered their behavior. They are faster than before, and showing a limited capacity for thought, an ability to problem solve.

  Brass has images he can’t shake from his mind, lingering from the video he was shown. He can still hear how the new breed howl, high pitched screams of rage. He has ordered his people to pack up everything, load every vehicle, and be ready to move out in the morning.

  “Hey, Abby, is this for real?” Rough Rider asks the young man who has been tasked with getting the word out and pulling in all nonessential scouts and posts.

  “Very. Can you get all the animals loaded onto trailers? If you run out of trailers use box trucks and U-Haul’s, I’ll find you drivers.”

  “It might save on man power if Peace and I drive the herds on horseback,” Rough Rider suggests.

  “No. everyone needs to be inside a vehicle,” Abby replies. “What’s coming is…it’s bad. And, we’ll be heading through bandit territory.”