Becks pulled open the front door, and made sure that two pistols pointing at his head were the first things the man saw.
“We’re cool. Everything is okay,” he said, raising both hands.
She waved him inside, but he hesitated.
“I would love to come inside, but I really don’t want to leave my bags out here,” he said, gesturing with his head, as his hands were still raised.
“What’s in them?” Becks asked with narrow-eyed suspicion.
“Some food, some water, a change of clothes…and a shitload of badass guns!” he said proudly, with a wide smile.
There was something disarming about that smile, even when he was talking about bags full of weapons. If this man was lying and trying to deceive Becks, he was one of the best.
“Okay, bring ‘em in,” she said in a friendly manner, unable to maintain her scowl, but not lowering her weapons.
After bringing in the bags, Becks gestured toward the woodstove where he promptly peeled off his parka and sat in front of the fire.
“Saw them taking your firewood,” he said, rubbing his hands for warmth. “I buried all my firewood, and most of my supplies. If you don’t want people finding you or your stuff, dig a hole!”
“Well, I didn’t think of that,” Becks replied. “Didn’t think a lot of this would happen. So, what’s your story…uh, what is your name?”
“Ed Tasi, but my friends call me Big Eddie,” he said, extending his hand to shake, and then withdrawing it when Becks held firm to her pistols.
Eddie then launched into his life’s story, or at least the last few years BZA, and then everything AZA. It turned out his parents were from Samoa, but no, he never played football—much to his high school coach’s dismay. He joined the Army right out of high school, and served two tours in Iraq, and one in Afghanistan, while his wife raised Eddie Junior. When he returned home, he got a job with the county doing maintenance, and picking up overtime wherever he could get it—driving snow plows, cleaning storm drains; anything to help make ends meet.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “Never was afraid of hard work, and I was just grateful that we were able to have a little home of our own and put food on the table. We made a good home for Eddie Junior, and you know, that’s all that was important. You got kids?”
“No, I don’t. But I do know what you mean,” Becks replied, even though she wasn’t sure she meant it.
“Then the neighborhood got kind of crazy when the infection began. Neighbors turning on neighbors, you know? Guess it was the same everywhere. Most of the people took off right after quarantine. Izzy thought we should go, but where was I going to take my family? I know my house, my street, my town, and I knew I could defend it. I didn’t want to go driving off to God-knows-where into God-knows-what.”
“Yeah, I stayed in my house, too,” Becks interjected.
“And it turned out to be the right call, didn’t it? My wife has a green thumb. She made a garden across a couple of backyards and grew a lot of food. We collected rain water. There were plenty of deer and rabbits in the neighborhood, and in the park a few blocks down. I’m not saying it was easy, but we were doing okay, you know? Had to kick some zombie ass now and then, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Give me a zombie over a sneaky Taliban motherfucker any day!”
Becks couldn’t help laughing, and ever so slightly lowering her pistols. But at that moment Big Eddie stood up. Becks used her legs to push herself backwards across the floor to get out of arm’s reach, while cocking the hammer of her Smith and Wesson.
“Whoa, whoa! Hang on their, killer,” he said, raising his hands again. “The fire is going out. I’m just getting some more wood.”
Slowly moving to an old rocking chair, he lifted it up and snapped it to pieces like it was made of toothpicks. He opened the glass door of the woodstove, thoughtfully placed the pieces of the chair to generate the best fire, and then sat back down at a respectful and nonthreatening distance.
“You do realize how many times I could have taken you out?” he said with more than a hint of exasperation at having two pistols trained on him. “Trust me, you never would have known what hit you.”
“Is that supposed to reassure me?” Becks replied, although realizing it was the honest truth. She didn’t even know Eddie and Izzy were living a block away, yet he knew her every move. “Oh hell, my arms are getting tired anyway.”
Taking a leap of faith, or more accurately a calculated risk, she holstered her pistols. When Eddie didn’t move a muscle and just continued on with his story, she breathed a little easier.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so we were holding our own with the zombies and avoiding the Rovers. And we were together, as a family. That was the only thing that really mattered, you know?
“Then a few months ago, Eddie Junior—he was a really smart kid, not like me—he decides he wants some more books to read, because you know, there’s not a whole lot to do in a zombie apocalypse. He says he wants to go to the library. Can you stand it!? There’s zombies and Rovers everywhere, and this kid of mine wants to go to the library! What were we going to say? If it made him happy and took his mind off all this horrifying shit around us, then it was worth it.
“I told him I would go into town alone and get him some books, but he says, ‘Dad, really, do you even have any idea where the physics and chemistry section of the library is?’ So his mom and me decide he can go with me.”
At this point, a flood of emotion swept across Eddie’s face, and his voice broke. He had to pause for a minute before continuing.
“We get downtown without so much as a sniff of a zombie, and we don’t see any Rovers. The library door is already busted open so we walk right in. Well, you should have seen Eddie Junior’s face light up surrounded by all those books. I hadn’t seen him smile like that since before all that zombie parasite shit began. He starts stuffing all these big books into our knapsacks, and I say, ‘Hold on, Einstein, we need to be able to run if we have to,’ so he reluctantly goes through them all again and just takes ‘the essentials’ he says.
“As we are leaving the library, a couple of zombies are coming across the street at us. They were the couple who ran the movie theater in town; a nice old couple. Sure hated to split their skulls with my machete, but what are you going to do?
“Eddie Junior’s not so good with the killing stuff, and he gets kind of upset and stumbles as he starts running. One of the books falls out of his knapsack. I tell him to leave it, but he says it’s the best one. He runs back to get it, and just then a Rover patrol is driving by from a side street. I duck into an alley and yell at Eddie Junior to hide—we’re about fifty feet apart—but he just has to have that book.
“One of the Rovers thinks he’s stealing some of their supplies, and…and…”
Tears welled up in Eddie’s eyes, and Becks told him he didn’t need to continue.
“No…no, other people need to know about my boy. I don’t want Eddie Junior to be forgotten,” he replied, wiping his eyes and somehow finding the strength to finish the story. “Eddie Junior picks up the book and starts running toward me. He’s no more than fifteen feet away and they shoot him. The bastards shoot my boy in the back because of a book! He falls to the ground and looks right at me, and you know what he does? He puts his finger to his lips, and whispers for me to be quiet and save myself. Save myself so I can take care of his mom.
“I know gunshot wounds. I knew he wouldn’t last more than a minute or two. And maybe God will damn my soul to hell, but I ran. I took off and left him there to die in the street alone. And not a day has gone by since then that I haven’t wanted to track down every one of those Rover fuckers and slash their throats from ear to ear. And now they have Izzy. I thought she was safely hidden—I had made a false wall space for her in a closet—but she started coughing, you know, and I was in the attic and I saw there were just too many of them out there…”
The darkness that now filled every l
ine of his agonized expression made Becks gasp. Such single-minded, hatred-driven revenge frightened her, but it also cemented the level of trust she was looking for. If he had wanted her dead, or to do her harm, she truly would have never seen it coming. This was a man who would tear apart someone with his bare hands to protect his family, and if he wanted Becks on his side, she couldn’t ask for a better ally.
“I may live to regret this,” Becks began, “but how can I help you get your wife back?”
Chapter 7
Isabella Tasi was too good for this world, and she had endured too much hardship and grief. The sleepless nights and anxiety attacks during her husband’s three deployments were too much on her fragile system, but she somehow managed to hide her condition from Little Eddie, as she called her beautiful, curly-haired, baby boy from the day he was born. When Big Eddie finally returned to them safe and sound, she allowed herself to believe that she would never spend another day living in fear.
BZA, she worked at the local elementary school as a teacher’s aide, where she was affectionately known as Mama Izzy. She told everyone she took the job because they needed the money, which they did, but that wasn’t the real reason. She worked at the school because it gave her the opportunity to see Little Eddie here and there throughout the day. Even a glimpse of her boy made her heart swell with love and pride.
“He’s such a smart boy, not like me,” she would tell anyone who would listen, “And I would scrub floors and work three jobs if I had to, to make sure he gets a great college education. Of course, my boy is so smart he will get all the scholarships he needs, but I will do whatever it takes for him to succeed.”
When the infection began, the schools were one of the first places to be hit hard. Concentrations of children were always prime breeding grounds for the spread of viruses and bacteria, and the ZIPs were especially adept at jumping from child to child. Little Eddie hated the idea of the schools having to close “temporarily” until the health crisis could be resolved, but he begrudgingly had to admit “it was an epidemiologically sound strategy,” as he told his fifth grade teacher.
Despite the gradual collapse of civilization and the mortal peril of the rise of the zombie population, the real blow for Little Eddie came the day the Internet went down for good. Up until that point, he had at least been able to continue his studies, and communicate with a few friends he had made across the globe, thanks to a gifted child website. He loved his mom and dad with all his heart, but they were hardly able to provide the mental stimulation he needed.
From the day the news broke about the seriousness of the spreading infection, Izzy spent every waking moment worrying about her son’s safety. While she knew that Big Eddie was a veritable one-man army, and would move heaven and earth to protect them, the harsh reality of the world AZA was too much for anyone to ever reasonably expect to live another day. This realization pounded away at her, body and soul, until at times she actually believed that she might shatter into a thousand pieces like a plate glass window being struck with a sledgehammer.
Her sanity and physical health teetered back and forth over the edge, and just when she was certain that she would not be able to go on, Little Eddie would kiss her cheek and tell her she shouldn’t worry, because he had enough strength for the both of them. After such touching moments, she would rise again, mentally and physically, if for no other reason than to keep her boy safe, and make sure he, at least, would live another day. She would do well for a couple of weeks, or perhaps a month or two, but the relentless pounding eventually wore her down again and again, and every time the lows would get a little lower.
Then came the day that Big Eddie came home without Little Eddie. Life stopped at that moment as surely as if the bullet had struck her in the back. She still ate occasionally, slept a bit here and there, and spoke every now and then, but none of it seemed to be a conscious action. In her mind, she was already dead and buried. Only the ghost of Isabella Tasi still walked the earth, less alive than the zombies that occasionally shuffled over her son’s shallow grave in the park across the street from the library.
Not that it would have been any consolation to Izzy or Big Eddie, but when the man who shot Little Eddie discovered he was just a kid taking books from the library, the man shot the commander of the patrol who had ordered him to fire, and then promptly turned the gun on himself.
In an odd and disturbing twist, Little Eddie, the man who shot him, the commander, and the zombie couple Big Eddie had killed, were all placed in that same hastily dug grave. Zombie apocalypses had a way of raising or lowering everyone to the same level, depending upon how you looked at it. In a way, it was the great equalizer, where everyone from all walks of life, and undeath, ultimately equaled zero.
The woman Becks had witnessed being dragged down the street was not only sick in her heart and mind, her body was obviously also ravaged by a severe respiratory illness. From Eddie’s description of his wife’s symptoms, it sounded like pneumonia, although in his state of denial he kept referring to it as simply “her nagging cold.” Without the proper medications at Becks’ disposal, she realized that even if they retrieved Isabella Tasi, they may just be rescuing a corpse.
Still, Becks had this thing about good people vs. bad people, and she couldn’t live with the thought of bad people functioning with impunity, usually at the expense of good people. As much as she detested zombies, they couldn’t help themselves. People had choices, and when they kept making the wrong choices that hurt other people, her blood boiled and she just had the strongest desire—no, the need—to kick some ass.
And considering that BZA she wouldn’t hurt a fly, this newfound righteous indignation had turned her into quite a proficient killer, racking up an impressive body count. Between the people she had shot and intentionally infected, this former Angel of Mercy had grown quite a pair of black wings as the Angel of Death, and she was once again fired up and ready to rustle some feathers.
It would all have to be done wisely, however. Two people running into town with guns blazing wouldn’t get the job done. And as Becks had no idea what the town was like—Ridgelawn Park, she finally found out—she would have to rely on Eddie for the layout of the streets, buildings, and lookout points. Of course, with hundreds of people in dozens of private homes, condos, and apartment buildings spread over about nine square blocks, there was no telling where Isabella was being held. However, as they would have to start somewhere, Eddie suspected she would be near The Capitol, as Reggie and his brothers called the fine, white house where they lived, and declared their laws.
It wasn’t uncommon for small towns to have their best homes on their main street become funeral homes, and this late 19th century gem was no different. The family that owned it for generations could no longer pay the taxes and maintain it, so in the 1980s it became the Francis Smith Funeral Home and Cremation Services. When society began to break down, it didn’t bother the brothers at all to commandeer the former funeral home and move in. Considering they had spent all their lives in a few dark rooms with poor ventilation over their family’s deli, this was a palace. Who cared if they had to toss out a few dozen coffins and the place reeked of flowers? It beat the constant smell of corned beef.
Isabella was indeed being kept very close to The Capitol, in an unheated shed in the backyard. Her nerves and illness had put her in an incoherent state. That, coupled with the fact that the brothers suspected whatever she had might be contagious, they at least decided not to beat her into speaking, lest her germs spread to them. During a zombie apocalypse, everyone in their right mind becomes a germaphobe, but the brothers were especially paranoid. And no one was more afraid of germs than the big gorilla of a man who acted as a bodyguard to the brothers.
In any event, it didn’t look as though they would be getting any useful information out of this woman any time soon, or so they thought. As evening started to fall, a member of the housekeeping staff at The Capitol, Jennifer, was told to bring Isabella some water and crackers.
When Jennifer entered the shed, she immediately recognized “Mama Izzy,” who had been a favorite of her two girls at the elementary school—before they had been killed at the local mall when the entire staff of Hot Dog Paradise switched at once and went on a rampage.
“Please, Mr. Riley,” Jennifer almost whispered, sheepishly addressing one of the brothers, although which brother she could never tell. At least with Reggie gone, she had a 50-50 chance between Pat and Mickey, but she would never dare address any of them by their first names. “That’s not the army doctor. That’s the nice lady from the school. She’s real sick, Mr. Riley, got a high fever, and coughing something awful. Could I please bring her to my place and try to get her warmed up and get some hot soup in her? She can share my rations, I won’t ask for extras.”
Whichever brother it was, didn’t say a word and left the room for a minute to consult with the other brother. Then they both returned and grilled Jennifer for everything she knew about Isabella Tasi. They learned that her husband had been in the military, they had a son, and they lived somewhere in town, but she didn’t know where.
After dismissing Jennifer and allowing her to take Isabella and her germs home, Pat or Mickey opened a drawer in the former funeral director’s desk and took out two valuable post-apocalypse resources—a phone book and a map. In the early days of scavenging for supplies, they had made a list of the affluent customers at the deli, looked them up in the phone book, and raided their houses first.
If these people happened to still be at home and resisted the Rovers—who had been named after the brothers’ bowling team—that was too bad for them. The timid ones gave up everything they had and joined the resurrected community of New Ridgelawn, with the three brothers each representing one of the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial branches of the regime. In truth, many of the people the Rovers “rescued” wouldn’t have lasted long on their own, but there is that old saying that those who give up freedom for security deserve neither.
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