by Dean James
“Abby,” I said slowly, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Go away.” She did as I asked without argument.
I pressed his old revolver to his head once again, and his laughter ceased. I reached into the pockets of the jacket he had taken from me. I had thoughts of taking it back, but I wouldn’t feel right wearing it again. I would never be able to wash the memory out of the fabric. His bulk had already begun to tear at the stitches anyway, and before long it would fall apart entirely. I removed my phone and the handcuffs I had taken from the fallen officer’s belt.
I locked one cuff tightly on his right wrist. He resisted when I tried to lead him towards the Chevy. It was when I threatened to get the paint thinner again that he finally relented and scooted his ass across the floor, coming to rest with his back against the back bumper. I latched the other end of the cuffs to the frame underneath. He slumped down, any fight that might have been left in him seemed to have disappeared.
I grabbed some pliers from the tool rack. Opening the trunk, I carefully pulled the cloth and tape away from the poor girl’s mouths. This was a foolhardy endeavor, and I knew it. But their bound hands made them slightly less dangerous for the short time I was near them. I closed the trunk, and knelt beside him for the last time.
“I might have let you go,” I said honestly. “Even after everything you did, I might have just walked away satisfied with your new limp.” He raised his head, staring at me as I spoke. There was no animosity in his face. There wasn’t much of anything behind his cold soulless eyes.
“But then I saw that,” I said, pointing at the trunk. “They were kids, and you killed them. For what? To satisfy your sick desires? For the fun of it? Just to prove that you could? Honestly, I don’t understand it. What I do understand is this world is going to shit, and every little bit that I can do to remove evil from it is worth it. So I am going to keep my promise, for the sake of anyone else you may cross paths with. I am going to kill you.”
“My brothers will find you,” he said, lowering his head. “They’ll make you bleed for this.” His voice was disturbingly calm.
“Not before you,” I patted him on his shoulder. “Not before you.” I stood and popped the trunk wide open. The undead kids were already pushing their way towards him despite their bindings.
I lay his revolver on the floor several feet out of his reach. “I’ll give you as much chance as you gave those girls,” I said before walking back to our car.
I slid into the driver’s seat of our car and waited. The car was deathly silent. I could feel all eyes staring at me, and I wondered if they saw the monster I felt that I had become. I put the car in gear with the window cracked open. I pulled onto the road when I heard the first pain filled wails.
I looked at Abby as I accelerated. It was written all over her face. She was afraid of me. In truth, so was I.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
For another hour, we drove without speaking. I had crossed a line I knew I could never uncross. Thou shalt not kill repeated itself over and over in my head as the miles ticked by. How would I be judged for my actions in this life, or the next? If there is a God looking down upon this world, would there be a place in His kingdom for me now? For that matter, why would He allow this hell to happen in the first place?
My head ached from the blow I had taken. I rubbed my aching hand, the burning sensation around the scars that always seemed to arise during stressful situations was particularly intense.
I wondered about Abby and Katie. Would Abby ever look at me again as the man she married? She abhorred violence. She would on occasion hide my fishing equipment to keep several fish lips piercing free. I used to be the guy she knew to swerve the car and stop in the middle of traffic to avoid hitting a squirrel. I was now the guy who tortured a man for his keys, and murdered him, albeit indirectly.
“Stop it,” Abby startled me out of my thoughts. She stared out the window, as if she hoped the road would wash away the memories of that morning.
“Stop what?” I asked, glancing back at the kids. Katie had busied herself rooting around in one of the many pouches scattered around the back seat. Within seconds she had produced a large coloring book and box of crayons. Jane perked up when Katie offered to share her art supplies.
“Stop judging yourself. I know you’re second guessing yourself. Stop it. You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said calmly.
“I murdered a man,” I said under my breath. The words hit me harder than I expected. It was like someone else spoke them. It was my voice, but the words felt foreign as they slid off my tongue.
“He killed two girls. He would have tortured and killed us too. Who knows what he would have done with Katie or Jane or Lexi. You didn’t kill a man, you put down an animal,” she said without the slightest attempt to hide her animosity.
“I know,” I answered. “I still don’t feel right about it though.”
“I would be afraid if you did. You need to forgive yourself.” She took my hand into hers.
“Can you?” I asked, squeezing her hand. “Forgive me, that is. When we left, I saw your face. You looked like you were ready to jump out of the car and run away from me.”
“Dan,” she softened. “I wasn’t afraid of you. I was afraid for you. I was afraid this would be the thing that you couldn’t let go. I’m afraid that you will punish yourself more than any of us could. There is nothing to forgive you for.”
“But what about the big man upstairs? He has a dim view of this sort of thing. He even has a rule about it written in actual stone somewhere.”
“If God has anything to say to you about it, He’ll have to answer to me. Now, no more of this nonsense. Get us to that farm.”
“Daddy,” Katie interrupted. “I drew a picture for you.” She held the colorful image up to the mirror for me to see. A lump the size of a Mount Fuji rose in my throat as I stared at her artwork.
It was a bright and sunny day, flowers in bloom with grass covering the field we stood upon. In the background was our car, complete with an apple pie on the hood. I stood in the middle of the scene, my massive stick figure arms engulfing our entire family, including Lexi and Jane. Everyone wore smiles as they hugged each other in my protective embrace. In rainbow colored letters spanning across the sky was written “Thnk yo Dady”. I know it’s misspelled. She’s six, and as far as I was concerned, it was a masterpiece.
Tears rolled down my own cheek as Abby laughed a tearful laugh. Katie had no idea at the time how much her simple drawing had pulled me out of my emotional quagmire. Even Lexi’s eyes misted over as she looked at the drawing.
I pulled to the side of the road and hopped out of the car. I threw open the back door, and pulled Katie into a huge hug. I tossed her up into the air, and tickled her as soon as I caught her, before tossing her again. She laughed as big a laugh as a little girl could. I tossed her a couple more times before setting her down.
“Me too! Me too!” shouted Jane as she worked her way free of the seat belt.
“Sure! Why not!?” I said with new found vigor. I took Jane and tossed her too, until neither Katie nor Jane could take it anymore. It was perfect timing for me, as my body started to remind me in no uncertain terms my injuries were still there, and were starting to get annoyed at my antics. My head spun and my knee and shoulder begged for mercy. I doubled over, trying to catch my breath while at the same time, trying to not fall over from dizziness.
“You okay?” Abby asked as she attempted to rub some of the ache from my shoulder. “You haven’t done anything like that in years.”
“Yeah, for good reason too,” I said between pants. “But it’s a special occasion, I’ll live.”
“You sure?” Abby quipped. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“If I do, you can drive. You can’t scare me when I’m unconscious,” I laughed. That earned me a sharp jab to my arm, and ended the relieving shoulder massage. She had a smile on her face though, so I wasn’t in that much trouble.
We stayed there for a while, munching on fruit and enjoying the sunshine despite the biting cold. I was halfway through my second banana when the wind shifted. Carried on the chilled air was the powerful stench of the dead. The ammonia and rotting flesh stink was so tangible I felt as if I bathed in the foulness. Faces reflected a mixture of disgust and fear, and we all knew it was time to leave this place. Fast.
“Dan!” Abby said anxiously as she picked Jane up and put her into the car.
“I know, I smell it too,” I said as I picked up Katie.
“Not that. Listen!” she nearly shouted.
At first I didn’t hear anything. That unnerved me, as even during the dead of winter I should hear something from the nearby farms. Cattle doing whatever they do when they are not eating, crapping, or becoming steaks. The gentle squeak of an old rusty windmill. I would even settle for a chicken or two, but there was nothing. That was until everyone had climbed back into the relative safety of the car.
I wasn’t sure what it was I was hearing. I thought it could be an old tractor in the distance. The sound got closer, and a lot clearer. It was when I heard the distinct sound of a gear shift that I knew exactly what had Abby in a near panic.
I flung my door open as I saw two small dots crest a hill on the horizon. The two motorcycles throttled forward as they saw us. Though I couldn’t see their faces, I knew without a doubt who they were. Mutton’s posse must have found what was left of him, and had decided to repay us in kind. It wouldn’t be hard to find which direction we went either, as our tires must have made an imprint in the gore that the wandering horde had left behind.
“Seatbelts! Now!” I shouted as I threw myself behind the wheel.
Tires screamed as my foot mercilessly mashed down on the accelerator. I could no longer hear the bikes over the roar of our own engine, but a glance in the rear view mirror told me they would have no problem keeping up. We were weighed down with people and supplies; they had neither restriction. Not to mention they had agility on bikes that we could not match in our bulky SUV. This chase would be over quickly, and we wouldn’t be sitting in the winner’s circle at the end.
“Abby! You’re going to have to shoo…” I was silenced by Abby slamming a round into the shotgun’s chamber. She set the weapon between her knees, and went to work filling the AR-15 magazine.
“I’m sick of these assholes,” she said under her breath. She must have felt my eyes burning through the side of her head. She looked up at me, her eyebrow raised slightly. “What?” she asked.
“I love you.” I turned my attention back to the road.
“You better,” she said as she went back to her work.
“Girls,” I started. “Get under as many blankets as you can, and lay down on the seat. Don’t sit up for anything, understand?”
Lexi went to work securing the back seat. She cleared the floorboards and moved the two girls as far down as they could go. She layered blankets on top of them, covering the two completely. Lexi turned herself in her chair, staring out the back window.
“I meant you too, Lexi. Get under cover,” I ordered.
“But I can shoot too! I’m a good shot!” she protested.
“I am keenly aware of that fact,” I said glancing at her in the mirror. “But the less I have of kids shooting at people, the better I’ll sleep at night. You will have plenty of shooting time, but not now.”
“I’m not a kid!” she argued.
“Trust me Lexi, from where I sit, you haven’t had enough life to be anything else. Now please, get down!”
The hurt in her face was apparent, but she relented and situated herself on the floorboard. Her well placed shot had saved all of our lives earlier, and for that I would be eternally grateful. But if given the chance, I would take that memory away from her. No kid should ever go to bed at night with the knowledge that they had purposefully drilled a bullet through someone’s knee. It was also not lost on me that had her shot gone wide by an inch or two, my new nickname would be hoppy. Whether it was a damn good shot or sheer luck, I didn’t know. I did want to find out before handing her a firearm again. I like my body parts to stay where they were originally installed, and intact.
My eyes danced from the mirror to the road as I navigated across the hilly terrain at speeds that I wouldn’t dare in the best of times. Yet, the two bikes had cut the distance between us in half. Any hope we had of reaching my brother’s farm before they reached us had been dashed. We were on our own.
Abby climbed into the back seat, careful not to step on Lexi. She kneeled on the cushioned bench seat, resting the barrel of her shotgun between the seat and headrest. She hunched down, looking straight across the top of the barrel, and waited.
The riders were close enough to see the teardrop tattoo on the cheek of the older biker. His face was old and grizzled, marked with scars that zig zagged across his face. His thin black hair poked underneath the Harley Davidson bandana wrapped around his head. His gore covered blue jeans were almost as ragged as the ancient leather jacket buttoned up to his neck. It would have been easier to count the number of rotting teeth that were left in his head than to try and sum up how many were missing.
The other rider by contrast was a vision of youth. His long blonde hair flowed in the wind. The kid was probably too young for his first prom. His unmarred skin still held the pink glow of youth. Even his black leather jacket seemed new and fresh, devoid of the grime that covered his companion. I could read nothing but malice on his face, even through the thick black sunglasses he wore.
“Abby! Wait! Don’t shoo…” The concussive thunder of the weapon in the enclosed space sent my brain into a tailspin. My ears popped as the back window exploded outward in a shower of glass and lead pellets. Abby’s hands shot up to cover her ears, wincing in pain as the kids screamed from below their blankets.
The shot must have gone between the two bikes. Neither man had taken the full shot, but neither of them had gotten away unscathed. The young one held his left cheek, blood dribbled between his fingers as he tried to steady his bike. His sunglasses bounced on the road behind him, shattering into pieces.
The other pursuer had taken the worst of it. The right arm of his jacket was shredded, and I had to believe a nice chunk of muscle was now perforated. The twisted look of pain on his face suddenly flashed over with a near feral rage as they both dropped back and out of range of Abby’s shoulder cannon.
Abby’s lips moved, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I couldn’t hear much of anything over the loud whine that had taken up residence inside my head. I watched her in the mirror, trying to become the fastest study in lip reading on earth. Her eyes grew wide as she frantically pointed towards the side window. When I looked where she was pointing, I suddenly realized our situation had just become exponentially worse.
The chase had led us onto a stretch of road that cut a swath through a densely wooded countryside. My attention had been so fully monopolized with escaping the two followers that I didn’t see the danger building in front of us.
Zombies flowed from the forest in a seemingly endless stream of living death. They reached towards us, their gnarled and bloody knuckles scraping against the car as we sped by. The car shuddered violently as one of the creatures bounced off our front bumper. Its body lifted from the ground, spinning around until it slapped down hard on the asphalt.
Our radio suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks and broken plastic as a bullet tore through our dashboard. The pursuing engines became more distant as we pressed forward through the throng of ravenous dead. The men chasing us may have been the dregs of what was left of humanity, but they weren’t stupid. For once, the dead worked in our favor as the bikers broke off the chase, but not before firing haphazardly into the crowd of undead.
We were forced to reduce our speed to a crawl. A high speed collision with an inhuman body could stall our engine, and that would mean certain death for me and my clan. The car rocked side to side as the things tried to push their way
to us. A macabre collage of teeth and gore covered faces mashed against the windows. The whine in my ears from Abby’s earlier shotgun blast had cleared, and was replaced with the excited deathly groans of those trying to get to the meal on wheels.
Abby released a torrent of gunfire through the back window as arms stretched through the broken glass, but it was like trying to drain an ocean with a teaspoon. One fell to her barrage, and another took its place before the first one hit the ground.
I tried to weave the car in an attempt to dislodge the things from their death grip (no pun intended) on the rear window. But they were relentless, refusing to be dislodged once they felt their food was in reach. It was not long before I realized that Abby could not possibly keep up with their numbers. We were dangerously close to being overrun in our own car.
“Lexi! We need you!” I shouted despite my earlier protests against her handling firearms again. She popped her head from under her blankets, and her face paled when she looked around the car. She looked back at me with fear and confusion in her eyes.
“We need you!” I repeated, thrusting my pistol at her.
She blinked her eyes for a minute, and then I saw something change in her. It was a change in her demeanor that took me a long time to fully understand. It was if her fear and confusion melted away, leaving behind a mix of anger and determination. Her eyes narrowed and her teeth clenched. She took a deep breath, and moved with lightning speed.
My weapon was out of my hand and in hers before I knew it was gone. She spun around in her seat and chambered a live round. With a fraction of a second to aim, she placed a neat hole in the pale blue forehead of a creature. Two more pistol cracks, and two more zombies left this world for the last time.