by Coke, Justin
Janet looked at Tabitha. "How's the engine temperature gauge?"
Tabitha looked at her. "It's getting pretty goddamn high."
"Have you looked at this?"
"I can imagine. The one thing I didn't bring was cleaning stuff."
"Give me some towel or something and a bit of water. And a knife. Yeah, fuck it. Give me a knife."
Gerald handed her a spare spatula, now radiator scraper, and she bent down to work.
Meghan just watched the tree line with a pair of tiny binoculars, and ate her hotdog with one hand, still scanning the horizon.
After Vinny wolfed down a few hotdogs he tried to take over the cleaning duties. Tabitha put a hand on his arm and shook her head.
"Why not? She's tired!" Vinny asked.
"She's the only one we know is bite immune. It ain't fair but she's got to be the one who handles their filth. It ain't safe to have anyone else handling jobs like that. One piece of skull pokes you, you're dead. It pokes her, she needs Bactine."
While Janet appreciated Vinny's willingness to take over such a gross job, she knew Tabitha was right.
"It's ok, Vinny. I'm fine, and she's right. No reason to risk anyone’s life any more than we are already. Just watch my back."
Meghan coughed and pointed. Two bogies were visible, though they weren't headed their way, but shambling back down the road. Everyone ducked and didn't dare whisper until they were out of sight. Janet kept working. The cattle catcher made it hard to get it clean, but she didn't need it pristine. She needed it clean enough to keep the engine from overheating. After ten minutes or so it was about as good as it was going it get.
"What should I do with the spatula?"
Gerald glanced at Tabitha. He seemed to see a verdict in her eyes. "Chuck it."
And with that they packed up and were back on the road. Meghan was behind the wheel of the Escape, and Janet was asleep almost before they pulled out of the cemetery.
She woke up as the vehicle came to a stop. The windshield was covered in a faint misting of blood. On some level she had been awake for a long time. She sensed the impacts of a few zombies, but she had been in a sort of twilight zone where reality and dreams collided. She saw mangled zombies hanging in the trees; Calvin drove the car, and looked at her with disdain, and asked where Gary was.
That and the unusual sensation of not moving woke her. The cars stood in front of a sizeable log cabin. On closer inspection it was more of a fake log cabin. Uncle Bob struck again. The solar panels on the roof and on poles around the cabin weren't to save the environment. They were there because Uncle Bob loved hot showers in the morning and baseball at night. There was a smoke house out back for preserving the meat, and a few other sheds full of she had no idea what. The view was amazing; the Cabin stood on a high ridge. She could see fields of grass and forests full of autumnal colors for miles around. There was no hint of another human presence anywhere in her field of view. Janet had never been out here. It was the mystic center of maleness in her family, and she expected it to reek of cigar smoke and testosterone.
Which, when she went inside, was not so far from the truth. It was dusty and hot, and had some rather unpleasant scents that conjured old blood and dry sweat. The walls were covered in trophies and the furniture was ragged and overstuffed. A small TV was the center of the living room. The kitchen had a few scattered canned goods, some stale flour, and half a pack of dangerously expired Busch Light.
Gerald headed to the back and opened a closet. The closet was crammed with lights and dials. Gerald started flicking buttons and the unit came to life. Gerald smiled broadly and looked at her.
"And there shall be light," he said, and flicked the biggest switch. Florescent bulbs started to pop and glow. "System looks perfect. We'll have to make choices, like we can have hot showers or clean clothes, but we should have lights when we need them and water and we can cook. This place can be a bear to heat in the winter, but we have a massive stockpile of blankets in the attic. The wood smoke will be hard to see as long as we keep the fire small and hot."
Janet smiled. She had thought a few mean thoughts about this cabin. So much money and time had been spent by the men in her family when there were lawns to mow and children to tend to. She felt guilty for how happy she was they had wasted so much money on what had been a hobby. It's not like they knew this would happen. They just wanted to shoot the shit and whatever animals were in season. But as far as wasteful hobbies go, this one had turned out well. She turned a faucet. Warm and rusty water spurted out, but turned into a cool clear stream. She put her face down and slurped it. It tasted wonderful. It turned out really, really well.
She heard Tabitha opening windows. Gerald powered up the attic fan and currents of air started moving through the house, dispelling the heat and must. By contemporary standards it was a pretty great place to raise a daughter, she thought. She almost managed to not see Gary's face when she thought that, or the flush of guilt that hit her for smiling when he was dead.
Winter came on at a creep. Life at the cabin had worked itself out into a daily routine. Get up at dawn. Patrol the area for zombies. Most days, especially as it got colder, there was nothing to be found. Then the men headed off to hunt and the women stayed close doing chores, cooking meals. The cabin was at the top of a ridge that towered over the rest of the land. Only a double track trail, not suitable for anything short of a billy goat, provided a hint that there was something up here. One of their uncles had been an archery nut, and that had been yet another blessing in disguise. They could even hunt without sound. Sure, Vinny and Gary had a hard first month learning to use the bows, but they had brought enough supplies to survive.
Janet had no idea what day it was anymore, but she knew winter finally was there as she stood on the ridge and looked out. It seemed inclined to stay for a long time. Six inches of fresh snow sat on the ground. The cold felt almost hard on her face, and the dry air sucked moisture from her lungs. A massive flight of ducks appeared overhead, quacking and chittering at each other as they landed on the lake that sat at the bottom of the ridge. Gary and Vinny were off duck hunting at another pond miles away, since they didn't like using guns so close to their home. Meghan was inside with Tabitha and Diane doing something. She turned to head back in when she realized that the thing she most wanted in the world at that moment was to stay outside.
Cabin fever had hit hard and fast. She tried to go back in but she couldn't get her legs to move. Her heart raced at the thought of being indoors. She just wanted to see the ducks. If she tried to tell them what she wanted they wouldn't let her go, she knew that. Or they might want to come with her, which would be almost as bad as going back inside. She slung her shotgun over her back and headed down the trail. If she stayed any longer they might come out to see what was wrong. She took a few steps then halted. She should at least leave a note. But the pens were inside. She shrugged and started walked. She'd only be gone for a little bit. They wouldn't even notice.
Her calves were starting to burn halfway down the road. It wasn't icy, but descending down the rough road was taking it out of her. Her breath came fast and she was already starting to overheat. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, she was feeling great. The euphoria of being in the open and alone was more than enough to counter the pain of unaccustomed physical exertion.
Before the end of the world she had been a bit of a jogger. She ran 5K events. Once or twice a half marathon. The kids and her responsibilities kept her too busy to train much harder. But it had been months since she had done so much as a mile, and she could tell. It went so fast.
Finally she was down the ridge. A huge flight of hundreds of ducks swept in above. The sound of their wings was shockingly loud, and their quacks were deafening just above her. She just stared up at them, smiling, as they swung around to land. They were maybe ten feet above the water when three men appeared as if out of nothing and starting blazing away with shotguns. Ducks were falling out of the air and the flight broke u
p in panic, each duck flying away.
She screamed. The men stopped firing and looked right at her. She felt cold menace emanating from them as they brought their guns up. She startled and ran away from them.
"Hey! Hey! We thought you was a zombie!" One of them shouted. She ignored them and ran. She ran into the snow covered forest, heart trip-hammering. She kept going for who knows how long, then stopped, bent over and wheezing, a side stitch almost making her sit down. She couldn't hear anything. The woods were dead quiet. She had stayed with the ridge, but she was on the wrong side. Thirty feet of sheer rock was on her right. At least she knew where she was. If she went a little further the sheer wall would stop and there was a place where she could get up and hike back to the cabin. She was pretty sure she could, anyway. Once her breathing was back to normal she started walking. After a half mile she could smell something. It was like a rotten egg. The air was moist, and while not exactly warm, it wasn't the almost stone-like cold she had felt earlier.
She was near the hot spring. Vinny had talked about how bad it stank and how even the wildlife wouldn't drink from it. He claimed he saw a bear taking a bath one winter. On close questioning he admitted he had seen bear tracks near the springs, and that was it. But still, she had to worry about bears now. She was too tired to cut around the spring and bears weren't her main concern so she kept going. She ended up climbing a small hill and there the spring was. Thirty pairs of rotten eyes were already staring at her. They sat in the pool, steam coming off their faces. They seemed almost as surprised as she was. They each just stared at her for what seemed like forever, then they all started moaning and trying to climb out of the pool.
She started running again, at full sprint. She made it maybe a mile. The forest had thinned and she was in the open now. She looked back and realized she had been running away from the ridge. She sat down and stuffed snow in her mouth. As it melted she could see hints of movement in the tree line half a mile back. It was so quiet she could hear them moaning. They were still after her. She groaned and got back up. She wanted to get rid of the shotgun; it was so heavy. But she shook her head. That would just be the capstone to a chain of panicky mistakes she had already made today. The cabin fever that had driven her down to the lake was just the start. When she remembered that her family had no idea where she was she almost broke into tears of guilt. This was almost as stupid as opening the door to that old lady. But feeling bad about it wasn't going to save her life. She needed a plan. She needed to lose these bozos.
Distance. That was the first thing she needed. Distance, and a change in direction. She took off her jacket and tied it around her waist. Half her problem was overheating. She started a light jog. The sun was to her right. A few miles north and then a break to the west to throw off her pursuers and she'd be at the highway. Maybe she could steal a car. But at least she'd know where she was. She could get back to the cabin. She just needed to make sure she didn't bring the bathers with her.
She kept going until her muscles screamed, then fell back to a flat ache. Then they just felt flat and empty and her speed kept dropping, bit by bit. After a while she put the jacket back on and was trudging. Hours had gone by, the sun was now on her left. She was so hungry when she finally hit the highway. A few cars glinted in the sun. There was no movement. She watched until she was convinced she was alone, then trudged to a Jeep Cherokee that had flipped over. She crouched and looked inside. Empty food wrappers, blood spatter on the windshield… and a pristine Snickers bar. Exhaustion forgotten she sprinted to the open driver's door and scrabbled to the candy bar. It was frozen so solid she struggled to chip the chocolate with her teeth. She groaned in disappointment, then remembered–she could just stick it in under her shirt. It would defrost quick enough. She stuffed it into her pants like a gun, then, energized by the promise of food she hit the next car. Two dead occupants, and what looked like an Xbox and a DVD collection. Looked like two head shots. She snorted at the dead bodies, as if to say 'that's all you brought for me?', and tried the door. It was locked. She took her shotgun and rammed the butt of the gun into the window. After a few swings it started to crack, a few more and she was in. She reached over the corpse and twisted the key. She could have sworn the dash lights flickered, but if they did it was so fast she couldn’t be sure.
"Bringing an XBox. Didn't buy a good battery." She looked at the DVDs. "Christ, you bought 'Season of the Witch'? I gotta tell you I'm a bit embarrassed for you." She popped the trunk. It was empty. She shook her head and looked right at the corpses.
"Well, I have to say you've boosted my self-esteem a bit," She took the Snickers out and took a bite. It was still pretty frozen, but it had softened enough to get a bite. "Compared to you two I'm a fucking genius."
The next SUV had an entire box of energy bars just sitting there in the back. She stared at it like she had found the Hope Diamond. The car wasn't even locked. She popped the rear door. Jackpot. Energy bars. Canned goods. Propane stove. Boxes of shotgun shells. Two gallons of frozen water. Slushy Gatorade. She was so entranced she didn't notice the zombie until it tried to crawl over the rear seat. It was a little girl and she got so close her fingers brushed against Janet's hood. She fell back on her ass and brought the gun up. She got off three shots. The first and third missed, shredding her precious supplies. The second took the zombie's head off like it was a watermelon. She cursed at herself. Slushy Gatorade gushed out on the ground like orange blood. Sympathetic howls went up. She bellowed profanity, then she was back at the supplies. She stuffed candy bars and bottles of Gatorade in every pocket, then ran to the front of the car. No keys. She was crying, but she kept moving. At least the Snickers was warm now. She wolfed it down and chugged some ice cold Gatorade with it. She hadn't seen any zombies. She scanned around. Nothing was moving. The howling was faint.
A building stood not far from her. It might have been a house sixty years ago. It tilted to one side. Trees grew and twisted out of its windows. It was as ramshackle as a house could be. Just then it looked as welcoming as the cabin she should never have left. She squeezed in through a tree that had punched a hole in the wall. Inside everything was dust and bird shit. Tetanus crossed her mind for a second. But hunger took over and she devoured energy bars and chugged Gatorade. Soon she felt like she had eaten a brick. She laid down and fell asleep. In her sleep she dreamt that her feet and hands were gone and she was back at the house wondering when Calvin would show up. She needed him to come, but she didn't know why. A formless anxiety filled her with dread. Then she was driving her first car, a ramshackle 1984 Chevy Celebrity. She was drunk and her mother was in the passenger seat demanding she pull over, but she just couldn't. She couldn't hit the brake and she drove the out of control car through yards and through fences trying to get her foot to move but it wouldn't.
That's what she was dreaming when the zombie jammed its head through a window. She startled awake, and she felt like she was in molasses. She stared at the zombie, wondering what on earth it could want. Then it forced its torso through the tiny gap. More appeared, casting shadows through the copious chinks in the wall, and it all came back. She staggered up and brought her gun up. What had once been the second floor beckoned. She scrambled up the jagged pile of splinters that had been a stairway once upon a time.
All of them. All of them from the hot springs, or maybe a whole other group, but there had to be dozens outside at least. She wept hot tears. How had they found her?
Then it came to her. The same way anyone would. They had just followed her tracks in the snow. She moaned.
"You stupid bitch. You're going to die because you had to see some ducks. How's that for your epitaph? 'Left a poor fourteen-year-old girl orphaned because she wanted to see some ducks.' You stupid cunt." She went through her pockets. She had left the shells at the car and taken candy bars instead. She had ten shells left, and that's only because Vinny insisted she carry a few extra in her pocket. Not enough. Not even close to enough.
Then they were thr
ough. Tired of waiting for the ones to squeeze in, a mass had just decided to walk right through the paper thin wall. The building was shaking and humming in a frightening way, like it was warning them all to get out before it just finally fell over. She brought the gun up. Might as well take a few with her. Boom. Kill. Boom. Kill. She couldn't miss. Boom. Boom. Out. She jammed shells in the tube as they came at her. One was climbing up, fingers gouging the wood as the wood fought back with dozens of dry splinters. She finished reloading. Boom. Its corpse fell back and knocked a few zombies back down, knocking even more boards out of place. The whining feedback loop grew stronger. Outside she thought she heard a flat popping noise that she ignored. Boom, one down, boom, two down. Boom. Boom. Three. Two shots left, three zombies. Boom. Two left. She started to feel like she was winning, even though there had to be twenty still outside. That popping continued. One shell left. She waited. The two zombies left fought and jostled with each other trying to get to her. She waited until they were head to head. Boom. Double kill. Zero left. She looked around. Where were the rest?
Pop pop pop pop pop pop. Silence. No moans or anything except the whining of the house.
"Hey, whoever is in there. You'd better come out. That thing is about to go Poltergeist on you." It was a man's voice, twangy and a bit high pitched.
She dropped down and jumped around the corpses to the hole the zombies had created. The sunlight burned her eyes, but she could see the zombie corpses trailing away. At the end of the trail stood a man. He was short and in unseasonably cool clothes. A bicycle lay on the ground next to him, and he held a tiny rifle. He had killed all the rest. She stared in awe as the house crackled and snapped and finally collapsed in a cloud of bird shit and sawdust.