Life Among the Dead (Book 4): The End

by Daniel Cotton

  The woman is silent except for her labored breathing, it sounds as if she’s fallen back to sleep. Abby is about to say something when her raspy voice inquires, “Did KB make it?”

  “Kaitlyn?” Abby clarifies. “Yeah, she’s there.” He’s hopeful this will get her to help him. “She’s seems very happy. Making friends, skating around…”

  “She’s skating?” Rocky asks dreamily, even in the dark Abby can tell from her voice that she is smiling. “Damn I miss watching her skate, it’s like poetry.”

  Abby uses this to his advantage. “Yeah, she’s probably not getting much skating in today, what with the zombies running around inside…” he lets that thought sink into the woman’s head.

  Drunk and getting drunker, the woman drains the bottle. Her voice is low and sad, “I scoped the place out after I got away from those crazy things. I let the heat die down a little, a few days, then I went to the roof of this place to see if I could get there. I had a plan all worked out, if not for…”

  “What’s your plan?” Abby interrupts sounding hopeful.

  “It’s no use,” she says defeated. “The Tanners own that territory.”

  “Who are the Tanners?”

  “Some of the dead took a shine to a building that was on fire, they were scared at first, but then they just lined up one day and filed in,” Rocky says. “They came out the other side, their skin seared and their clothes melted to their bodies. Fuck knows why.”

  “To seal in the juices,” Abby explains. “They’re trying to preserve themselves any way they can. These dead were normal once, as normal as walking corpses can be, anyway. They were attracted to radiation leaking from a nuke plant up north since radiation slows decomposition. It changed them, made them smarter, able to learn.”

  Rocky makes her labored breathing noise again, this time she actually has fallen asleep with her head on the bar cradled in her arms.

  “Hey!” Abby says as loud as he dares to wake her. “We need to get over that wall! There are people in there that need us. Killer B needs you!”

  As if it has just dawned on her that her KB is in danger, Rocky stands up so fast her heads swoons and her stomach lurches. “I’ll get you there if you promise to protect KB,” she offers.

  “I promise,” he agrees eagerly. The woman is searching for things behind the bar; a fresh bottle of whisky and several hard candies.

  “Leave the bottle,” Abby says. “Any more and you won’t be able to function.”

  She laughs at that. “That’s right, you’ve never met me. Booze is the only thing that makes me function. I just need to take my medicine first to straighten up a bit. Find more of these,” she tells him as she unwraps a few hard candies and shoves them into her mouth. The old sucking candies have been around for a while, the outer surfaces are gooey but they should still work their magic.

  After letting the sugar enter her system to give her brain a much needed, and long overdue, breath of air, she leads Abby to the roof through a back section. They climb more stairs than either can count, too worried about their respective loved ones in peril to mind the workout. On the roof and out of the dark, depressing hole Rocky had planned on dying in, the light of day invigorates them, offers them hope.

  Rocky drops her bag of supplies, carefully to be mindful of the bottle of whisky. They walk to the edge so she can tell the man her plan.

  “Not much to it really,” she says. She points to a truck once used by the local utility company to repair power lines. “I was going to grab that cherry picker and just bring it to the wall. Ta-done!”

  Abby considers the truck, its boom is curled up along the bed like a scorpion’s tail but he thinks it should be able to reach the top of the wall, if he can start it.

  “Then, I saw them,” Rocky presents another obstacle that would have to be overcome, the dead she refers to as ‘Tanners’.

  Their skin, where synthetic fibers that was once their clothing is not melted into their flesh, is lightly charred, deep brown with patches of black. The zombies had let the flames get just close enough to kiss them from head to toe and only long enough to cook their outer layers of skin. The result is before him, they are blistered and peeling, hairless, wandering about their domain with unblinking eyes. The dead typically do not blink, but this tribe is different, their eyes seem to be open wider due to their eyelids being singed off. All their facial features are more pronouncedly withdrawn than that of the other New Breed, dried and shriveled.

  “These are, hands down, the creepiest zombies I’ve ever seen,” Abby says.

  “They keep to their own,” Rocky states taking a few more candies into her mouth. They clink against her teeth as she talks. “This tribe steers clear of the other ones. They both attack the slower ones. Did you know they eat them?”

  “Yeah,” Abby shares, “We don’t know why.”

  Still thinking of that truck, he considers it a great idea, but is not sure if it will turn over. Even if I can get past the Tanners. He can’t let himself give up, he knows it’s always best to remain positive. Abby decides that the truck will work, now all he has to do is get to it. He watches the Tanners patrol their territory in power save mode, like sharks drifting through the water just waiting for their next prospective meal to reveal itself.

  “You’re going for it, ain’t’cha?” Rocky can see the wheels turning in the man’s head. “Must be a girl on the other side of that wall, huh?”

  “Maybe,” he answers her guardedly. “Did you happen to have an idea on how to get through Tanner territory?”

  “Yeah,” she says, heading to another corner of the roof. “And, from what you said it may be more effective than I planned. In that funeral home you should be able to find some formaldehyde…”

  “…We lure them with it,” Abby interrupts, he recalls the smell of the substance from high school, and hopes it can jog something in the New Breed. “They’re always looking for ways to preserve themselves, we give them something they can’t resist.”

  “My original thinking was that the shit is extremely flammable,” Rocky admits. “I was just gonna finish the job they had started and cook them to the bone. Your thing might work too.”

  “So, how were you planning on getting into the funeral home?” he has to ask. Amid the buildings, the funeral home sticks out, an actual home at one point and location of the only stretch of lawn as far as the eye can see. It’s quaint, aside from recent neglect. A white picket fence surrounds the place, several Tanners walk along the planks.

  “A diversion. I have a crate of bottles I personally emptied that I was going to throw. I figured I just needed a second or two to get from that building, down that fire escape, and across the street,” she points out her plan, he can see only one flaw.

  “How do you get to that building?”

  “Fuck you ask a lot of questions?” she says rubbing her eyes. “I built a bridge.”

  He sees a length of wooden planes, doors and boards, all nailed together crudely to make one long plank. It’s been thought out, the pieces arranged in layers to strengthen weak points, and the whole thing is wrapped with a strip of gray duct tape. But, he doubts it will hold even her modest weight.

  Rocky can see the skeptical look in his eyes, the only problem she encountered was the weight of the bridge. By herself she wasn’t able to get it across the street, a rare occasion where she had to admit that she needed help, even worse in her mind, a man’s help. “Just help me get the thing set up, I’ll go. Your job will be distracting them and getting to the truck.”

  He agrees with a shrug, having nothing to lose. Together they raise the mishmash of wood and feed it over the side. Abby lays his weight on the end to help balance it against the pull of gravity that eagerly tries to take it from them, its resolve becoming more insistent the further they progress. Inch by inch they get it to the other building, only it is sagging below the roof. They need to get it to lay across the other ledge. Abby is actually standing on his end, being levitated in the a
ir due to the unbalanced weight distribution. Rocky had constructed her bridge to be long enough to reach the other side, but it isn’t long enough for them to set down on the sidewalk to catch a break or come up with a way to make their plan work.

  She steps to the edge and places her hands under the boards. “When I say go, I want you to crouch, grab the wood and lean back. Got it?”

  He has no choice but to trust the woman. “Go!” she commands.

  Abby does as he is told. His shift in weight initially causes him to rise almost a full foot, but he doesn’t jump off, he grabs the wood and leans. The board descends slowly until Rocky uses all her might and hefts it up off their rooftop. She strains watching it rise higher and higher, this will exhaust every ounce of effort she has, they have only this shot. She struggles to get the planks as high as she can and then commands her helper to aid her in one last move, “Push!”

  Together they are able to jab the assembled bridge far enough through space for it to land on the opposing roof. Abby brushes his hands off while Rocky takes a swig from her bottle. Before he can ask her if she’s ready she’s already going for it.

  Rocky’s theory is to go as fast as possible to make herself as light as possible, slowly crawling would only put strain on the boards and probably cause the bridge to fail. She takes long strides as she dashes across the plank, near the middle she loses her balance and is leaning backwards, her arms shoot forward to counter her weight. But, she doesn’t stop.

  On the other side she heads for the fire escape, trusting the man to be ready with the bottles. She just needs a few seconds to get in. From here she can see where bodies were once dropped off at the rear of her goal, an awning covers a recess in the ground. She doesn’t doubt the dead were taken straight to the basement, and that this is where she will find what she needs.

  Abby hurls a bottle away from the funeral home, not too far. He wants the Tanners to become curious and investigate. Blackened heads turn towards the shattering of the glass, they howl and two run to see what the sound is. Another distraction is thrown, further this time to draw them away, and hopefully entice the others to join in the search. More of them exit their power save shambling, alert and looking around they build speed.

  Abby continues to let the bottles fly trying to keep them spread out and the dead on their toes. Rocky descends once she’s satisfied that the coast is clear. She jogs to the back of the home, the door is locked but she is able to break a window open and dive into the darkness.

  The New Breed scream and wail as their exploration turns up nothing, the sound that drew them from their territory now infuriates them. One at a time they begin to ignore the shattering glass and file back home. Abby is panicking, Rocky hasn’t emerged yet and the Tanners are returning. The dried out dead stiffly assemble on the street they call theirs.

  They don’t resume their sleepwalking right away, they are searching around the property. Do they hear something? Abby wonders with concern for his partner. The charred corpses seem to know something is up, something is different. They look as if they are smelling the air, letting their shriveled nose lead them around to the back of the Funeral home, straight to the point Rocky had entered. A howl alerts the rest of the tribe to a development behind the house, all the Tanners rush to the scene of the break-in and dive in through the window.

  The howls are muffled through the walls, Abby is holding his breath. The woman doesn’t stand a chance in there with the berserk dead, unarmed and alone. He imagines the place is as dark as a cave, unfamiliar to her. He pictures her stumbling, trying to get away from the savage zombies that flood in right behind her. She’s losing her life as he just stares, unable to help.

  The front door opens, the woman he felt bad about asking to risk her life to aid him is exiting in hurry. She stops only to close the door behind her and trap the dead inside the funeral home. Smoke is beginning to pour from anywhere it can find, escaping through partially opened windows just as the woman escapes to get away from the dead, as well as the fire she set.

  Rocky is heading directly for the cherry picker. Stunned, Abby realizes he has to move. He grabs the bag she was carrying and descends the fire escape on his building. This wasn’t the plan, she had to improvise. Shattering the bottles of formaldehyde and using its flammability to her advantage. It lured the dead in that wished to prolong their longevity, and became their downfall.

  “Nice work,” Abby says as he settles into the passenger side of the utility truck. “Any dead inside?”

  “There was a few,” she replies as she attempts to turn over the large white truck. The man sitting next to her is impressed, though she’s been isolated for a long time, is very inebriated, and seems a bit insane, she’s just as capable as the most sober soldier in Rubicon. “Trick is to not let them bite ya.”

  The truck isn’t starting, it’s been sitting for the past year, both inside figure the battery is dead. A lot of that going around, Rocky thinks. “We’re gonna hafta push her. Get to the back, jump on there since you’re going to need to get in the basket anyway.”

  The driver opens her door after putting the heavy truck into neutral, if they can just get it moving fast enough to charge the starter they should be able to turn it over, squeeze just enough life out of it for this one job.

  The dead in the funeral home have been wailing as flames spread quickly. One at a time they are silenced as the fire takes them. The survivors struggle to get the truck rolling but once it is in motion it gets easier. They work harder to speed it up when a window behind them breaks and a Tanner emerges, engulfed in flames from head to toe it chases them. The ruckus has attracted the other New Breed from their search for Abby, they scream from distant streets, converging on the living.

  Rocky reaches in, leaning over the seat cushion and tries the key. The engine sputters briefly then grumbles to life. She hops in and closes her door as the dead charge from every direction. Checking her mirrors she is relieved to see Abby has grabbed onto the basket and is hefting himself up into it, she’d hate for all of this to be for nothing.

  The truck speeds up to gain distance from the fast zombies, the one on fire is slowing as the flames destroy it, it falls only to be replaced by hundreds of others that won’t be so easily dispatched. They speed to the wall of SBL, Rocky turns sharply sending Abby flying within the basket. They careen wanting to get as close as possible, the mirror on the right side is sheared off with a crunch.

  “Good luck, kid!” Rocky yells through the small back window. “Don’t forget your promise.”

  “Come with me!” he calls to her as he figures out the controls to raise the boom.

  “Fuck no! Just make sure KB is safe. Tell her… actually, forget you ever met me. Just protect her like she was your girl.”

  “I will,” he pledges and then takes it further. “I’ll protect everyone; KB, Vida, their friend Kelly Peel…”

  “Wait! What?” she screams as he rises away from the bed, the motor lifting him drowns out her protest. She leaps from the cab even though the dead are charging in a cloud of doom. Angrily she ignores how close they are getting to climb up after him. “Kelly fucking Peel is in there? With my KB?”

  The New Breed surrounds them, leaping and pushing one another out of the way to attempt to grab ahold of the living that rise above them. The truck is rocking from the sea of corpses that lunge and fight for position around the bed. They howl and scream ineffectively as the meal they have been hunting escapes them.

  The noise the dead make covers most of Rocky’s grumbling as she leans against one wall of the crowded basket, her arms crossed. “…singing songs about kissing bitches and enjoying it…”

  “Get on the wall,” Abby tells Rocky, helping her over.

  “I got it!” she shakes off his chivalrous aid and complies with the order.

  The New Breed are figuring out how to reach their meal, they are climbing into the back of the truck and up the raised boom. They grip the steel arm with impossible strength, hold
ing all their weight by the tips of their fingers. Abby knows they can’t leave the basket like this, it’ll just give the dead another way in. A quick search of the lifting arm turns up the hydraulic line running along the boom, to reach it he has to be in the basket and has to hope he can get on the wall before the lift falls.

  The man severs the line with his knife, yellow oil sprays out from the pressure it is under. The basket lurches under his feet as he leaps to the wall, the cherry picker has dropped away leaving him clinging. Wishing he had the incredible strength and endurance the dead have at this moment, his own finger tips strain to hold him aloft, slipping away. Rocky grabs his wrists and helps him up without a word.

  The dead below howl in frustration having lost their means to follow the living, the few caught in the now folded boom bellow unable to remove their trapped limbs. The mass writhes and leaps, throwing themselves up against the rough surface. They claw and scratch like declawed cats that will never be able to climb again.

  Abby leads Rocky along the wall heading toward the front gate, they can hear gunfire in the distance. The pace is quick, as they proceed to a few trees near the front entrance that should serve as their means of descent. After what they’ve been through the leap doesn’t seem as scary. One at a time they fly towards the closest tree, branches batter and scrape them on their way to a limb that will cut their trip to the ground in half.

  Abby hits the ground running, leaving Rocky to follow the sounds of trouble where he hopes to locate Vida. Rocky is left alone, suddenly very self-conscious. She’s in this bright, clean, happy world, herself very dirty and disheveled. After wallowing in her own filth for so long she had grown accustomed to it, felt it was what she deserved. As much as she wants to see Killer B, she dreads it. Like a shy child, she opts to stick with a familiar face and heads the way Abby had run.