by Sweet, Dell
The dead seemed to be everywhere when he lifted his eyes a few seconds later. One was inches away, staring into his own eyes through the glass. Dozens of others milled about as if waiting to be told what to do. His heart staggered once more, and the rifle was coming up before he realized he could do nothing. He lowered the gun and raised the rock that was still clutched in one hand. He smashed it down on the cheap plastic that surrounded the ignition built into the side of the steering column.
Outside the zombies went crazy. Sounds did that to them, but to Johnny it was almost as if they knew he was about to escape. The one next to the window stepped back and cocked it's head. Johnny looked back at the column, smashed the rock down again and the pieces of the ignition fell to the floorboards of the SUV. A splinter of plastic cut his hand as he jammed his fingers into the opening and pushed down into the hole the cylinder had once occupied. It took a second to find what he was searching for, but once he found it his finger pressed down and the motor began to turn over. At nearly the same time the zombie dropped from sight outside the window.
The motor coughed to life just as the zombie shot up with a rock in its rotting hands and smashed it down on the glass. Johnny let out an involuntary scream as the rock skittered across the glass and flew across the hood. The zombie did it's odd little scream and then fell out of sight once more. Johnny slammed his hand forward, caught the shift lever and yanked it down into reverse. His foot was already mashing the gas pedal down, the engine was revving and so when the zombie came back up with yet another rock the front fender slammed into him as Johnny spun the wheel, and the car began to race backwards, turning as it went. The zombie and several behind it flew away from the side of the car, the wheels hopped as it bounced over them and then caught. The car rocketed out into the street. Johnny locked the brakes up to get it stopped and nearly stalled it as it ground to a stop. A second later he dropped it into drive and plowed through a group of a dozen or more of the dead as he fumbled for the headlight switch and roared off down the road.
The dead flew up over the hood. One smashed into the glass hard enough to spider web it as it hit and then tumbled over the roof. He could hear them bumping as they slammed into the roof and fell into the night behind them. A few seconds later and all he could hear was the scream of the motor as he accelerated down the street. He forced himself to slow down so he didn't wreck. Lana was holding onto the dashboard in a death grip.
The truck left the pavement and flew out into the desert once more. Johnny mashed down the pedal a little more and began to put some space between themselves and the housing project. He reached over and pulled Lana away from the dashboard. She rocked back into the seat, her eyes closed, blood still running from under her hairline and slicking her face.
East of Phoenix
The moon was fully up. The desert seemed almost as if it were lit with streetlights to Johnny. He had found a dirt road and followed it to a concrete building that was part of a complex of buildings. The place didn't look like it had much going for it. A collection of buildings in the desert. A few trucks sitting around. Company trucks of some sort, painted the same colors, but no name on them. He passed through the complex slowly on the dirt road that fed it. Nothing. He turned and drove through it more slowly. Nothing again.
Johnny stared out into the night. The moon was moving past the halfway point, there wouldn't be much of the night left. He looked over at Lana where she sat, head back, breathing slowly. At some point the bleeding had stopped. He looked back around at the buildings. Maybe ten, unless he had miscounted. A dozen trucks and cars sat scattered around the buildings. A large building that was probably a garage, or at least appeared to be: Doors down. A side door, closed. He drove slowly, circling the building. A back door, also closed. Maybe, he thought, if it had been closed from the start nothing had been inside.
Johnny pulled back out front of the building, shifted the SUV into park and left it running. The door was fifteen feet away. He reached over, pushed the button on the glove box and let it fall open. He pawed through insurance papers, candy bars, those would come in handy later, maybe, and a half bottle of water. There was a small flashlight on a key chain. No keys on the chain. Probably no battery in the flashlight either, Johnny thought, but when he pushed the click button on top of the small aluminum flashlight it shot a bright beam that lit up the inside of the truck and nearly made him blind to the night before he clicked it back off. He waited a second and then leaned across to Lana.
“Lana... Lana, I got to go... Lana?” Nothing. Her breathing didn't change and it scared Johnny more than the attack by the zombies had. He sighed, fingered the safety on the rifle to make sure it was off, and then stepped from the truck.
The door chuffed closed behind him, nearly silent. Silence in the desert night, or at least it seemed silent for a moment. The desert wind reached his ears, just a soft rising and falling of sound as it slipped around the buildings. Nothing else. He made himself search the entire area once more with his eye and then he walked to the door, took one more look back at the SUV and then turned the knob and stepped inside the building.
Johnny stood in the darkness and listened to the wind slip around the metal building. His hand skittered along the wall and found the light switch. He flicked it before he had thought about it. Old habits die hard, he told himself. The click was overly loud in the darkness and made him jump. He forced his heart to slow down and then breathed deep. There was death here, he could smell it, but it was old death. Not the smell of the zombies. He breathed in deeply once more to be sure.
The building was much more than a garage, although there was a garage area to pull trucks into. One sat inside now, two large rolls of fencing in the back and dozens of long steel fence posts. He had seen them before. About five or six feet long with a sharp steel cross piece at the bottom to drive into the ground. A sledge hammer to the top to drive it down into the earth and you had a fence post. He stepped forward toward a glassed in room just past the truck. A lunchroom or sorts he guessed, or a break room. Vending machines lined the walls and three tables sat in the middle of the room with plastic chairs scattered about them. Empty.
Off to the left a steel door separated another area. He was beginning to panic about Lana. He had been gone a long time, but he forced himself to twist the knob on the door. It led to a hallway. A small office, bathrooms; lockers, a shower area, and the door that lead outside. He walked to the door and locked it. There was a glass wall that looked into the office and his eye caught something he had missed as he walked past. There was a chair that had been pulled over to a window that looked out on the desert. A man sat in that chair.
Johnny's heart leapt into his throat, but only for a second. The man was dead, but he had been dead for some time. A gun rested in his lap, his head cocked at an odd angle. Johnny backtracked to the door, opened it and stepped inside.
The smell was not that bad, but it was what he had smelled. The dead smelled differently once they rose to their new life. That was all he knew. It wasn't something he could definitely put his finger on, just a different smell of corruption. Johnny reached the chair and stared down at the man.
He had dried out in the heat of the desert. Johnny grabbed the armrest closest to him and dragged the chair from the office and out into the garage. He rolled it up to the doors and looked them over. Electric, but they could be manually raised and closed. Probably a nod toward electricity that might not always be available in the desert. Johnny pulled on the chains that dropped from the ceiling and the door went up easily, squeaking as it did. He pushed the chair out across the cracked pavement and left it close to one of the other buildings. The SUV rumbled close by, the motor turning over smoothly. He could see Lana, head back against the head rest. A minute later he drove the truck into the garage and then worked the chains, lowering the door down once more.
FIVE
The Barn
The moon rode high in the sky. Moonlight gleamed from bits of gravel in the dirt roa
d that lead into the barn. Silence held, and then a scraping came from the ground, muffled, deep.
At the edge of the woods, eyes flashed dully in the over-bright moonlight. Shapes shifted among the trees and then emerged from the shadows onto the gravel roadway. One dragged a leg as he walked, clothes already rotted and hanging in tatters. A second seemed almost untouched, a young woman, maybe a little too pale in the wash of moonlight. She walked as easily as any woman, stepping lightly as she went. The third and fourth moved slower, purposefully, as they made their way to the freshly turned soil. They stopped beside the grave, and silence once again took the night, no sounds of breathing, no puffs of steam on the cold night air.
“Do you think...?” The young woman asked in a whisper.
“Shut up,” the one with the dragging leg rasped. His words were almost unintelligible. His vocal cords rotted and stringy, no air in his lungs to move his words. The noises came once again from the earth and the four fell silent... waiting...
A hand broke through into the moonlight. A few minutes later a young woman's head pushed up, and then she levered her arms upward and began to strain to pull herself up and out of the hole. She noticed the four and stopped, her pale skin nearly translucent, her black hair tangled and matted against her face and neck. Her lips parted, a question seeming to ride on them.
“It's okay,” the young woman whispered, “it's okay.” She and one of the older ones moved forward, fell to their knees and began to scoop the dirt away from her with their hands.
“It'll be okay,” the young woman mumbled in agreement through her too cold lips.
“It will... It will,” the other woman repeated.
Johnny
I got up a second ago just to move around. The silence is killing me. How can it be so quiet? I made the circuit, nothing. The whiskey is gone and no effect left from it either. Maybe my body just can't respond to it any longer. Maybe there is nothing left that can shock it. I don't know. I DON'T KNOW!
Sorry... I should just say to hell with writing this out. I mean it's like some sort of penance, isn't it? Feels like it is. I hate it, but it is so real in my head, and I don't really know that it can't help someone else if it's down on paper... Maybe it can, maybe it can't. Where was I at... Arizona...
I remember that night in Arizona... I thought Lana was dead...
September 18th
Lana
She awoke with a gasp and sat upright. The movement caused pain to flare inside her head and her hands flew to either side of it as if to hold the pain inside.
“Here,” Johnny said from beside her. “Drink this... Coffee.” He handed her the paper cup.
“Dios... Johnny, my head is killing me,” Lana moaned. She sat carefully for a few seconds longer, holding her head steady, before edging open one eye and looking around her. The blanket that had been covering her slipped down and she reached for it unconsciously, catching it before it could slip off and onto the floor.
She was laying on a table, soft blankets beneath her, her shirt had been stripped off. Her bra was stiff with dried blood. “Ay Dios Mio,” she said softly.
“Come on, Lana. Drink the coffee, and,” He held out his other hand. “Aspirin... At least I think it's aspirin. Some off brand, but it'll help that headache.”
Lana tried a small smile on her face, took the aspirin and the coffee and managed to get the aspirin down.
“Johnny, that really is coffee, bad coffee, but real coffee.” Lana said. Her eyes were traveling around the room. Vending machines, including a coffee machine with the front door pried off.
“There was the powder that it's made from inside... I just liberated it and made it over a fire.” He turned and pointed back through the glass into a garage area where she could see he had dragged a camping stove of some kind and hooked it up to some bottled propane. The small cook surface looked funny with the giant propane cylinder next to it. Johnny laughed. “Yeah... Not exactly made for each other, but it's good enough.”
Lana looked Johnny up and down. He was dressed in clean clothes. “Where did you go shopping,” she asked as she sipped at the coffee. She swung her legs off the table and a wave of dizziness swept over her. Her stomach clenched and for a moment she was sure the coffee and aspirin were on their way back up, after a short battle they decided to stay. For how long she didn't know, but she did know she had to take it slower.
“Slow, Lana,” Johnny said as if he had looked into her mind and stolen her words.
“Got you... Got you,” Lana agreed.
“Clothes in the back, Lana. Lockers. I'm guessing this was some sort of ranchers place... Maybe a big operation... Cattle? Crops? I don't know. Bags of fertilizer, fencing, overalls, gloves, trucks, and about thirty lockers back there, most with clothes still in them.”
Her fingers crept up her head and felt carefully under her hairline. “Are those stitches I feel?” She asked.
“Yeah,” Johnny agreed. “Had to. Used dental floss and a needle. You never budged, scared me, Lana.”
“Well, if I had moved I would probably have kicked you right in the sac...” She sighed, “Thanks, Johnny... What happened... We were somewhere,” Her face clouded, but she could not bring the memory.
“That housing project?” Johnny prompted.
“Nope,” Lana said.
“Nicer homes... Back toward Phoenix?”
“Nope,” Lana said again.
“We were running at night...”
“That I remember,” Lana agreed.
“Okay, so we stopped to check out this housing project. Like upscale houses out in the desert. It looked empty, but it was full of zombies. One got you through the window...”
Lana's hand went to her throat. It was bruised and yellowed in the bright light inside the room. Lana looked around and then up. The ceiling lights were on.
“Yeah... So you do remember,” Johnny said.
“Yeah... Muerto.” Her eyes went to the lights and then back to Johnny's face. “We got away.”
“Barely,” Johnny agreed.” He followed her eyes up to the lights. “Generator.” He stopped talking so she could hear it.
“Okay... So that's that sound,” Lana said. She cleared her throat, drank some more of the coffee and then cleared her throat again. “I didn't get bitten, did I? You?”
“No... I would have done it if I had to, but no. They didn't get us.” Johnny said.
“Would have killed me?” Lana asked.
Johnny nodded.
“Johnny, it's okay to say you would have... It wouldn't be me... It would be one of those things and I don't want to be one of those things, Johnny.”
“I know... I would have killed it. No way would I have let you become that.” Johnny swallowed hard and the silence fell, just the generator chugging away.
Lana eased her feet slowly to the floor and tested her weight. Better than earlier, but she decided to sit a while longer. She drained the cup and Johnny took it.
“You want more?” He asked.
“I need water, just plain old water.” She looked around hopefully.
“Got that. A water cooler. You can even have it cold with the power on.” He was back just a few moments later with a new cardboard cup, this one filled with cold water.
“Dios... Cold water in the desert. I would not have believed that,” Lana said.
“Yeah,” Johnny agreed. “Not much longer though. There isn't much fuel oil. That's what it runs on. It was meant for short power outages. It's been on two days now.”
Lana choked on the water. Coughing bought the headache back, slamming into her forehead hard. She nearly passed out. Johnny was right there, an arm around her, holding her. She took a breath, another, and she was all right again. She would just have to wait on the headache to retreat once more.
“Come on, Lana. Let me get you into a chair.” Before she could argue he picked her up and carried her to a nearby chair. Not one of the plastic ones scattered around, a leather one. Beat up, but comfortabl
e. She sank back into the chair and immediately began to feel better. “Si, verdad? Two days here?”
“No. Three. It took a day to get the generator going. It wasn't designed to run after the initial time allotted. It would come on, run a while and shut right back off. I had to wire it direct. Maybe some safety feature so it wouldn't run out completely. I had to fill the tank from fifty five gallon drums, that was a bitch, but once I cut out the safety, filled her up, she started and stayed running. We're down to a quarter tank though... No more fuel oil... So I'm glad you're back.”
Lana upended the cup and drained it. It was amazing how good the water could make her feel. Like new life and strength being poured into her. Johnny bought her another and then another before she sat back into the chair. Her eyes fell on a vending machine with crackers, cookies and bagged chips. The door was ajar. Johnny followed her eyes.
He laughed. “Cookies, crackers, chips?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Lana said. Hunger had suddenly leapt up in her stomach. She was starved. Johnny came back with a couple of packs of each and she ate greedily as he talked.
“Maps out in the garage. I can't tell exactly where we are though. Somewhere to the southwest of Gold Canyon is my guess. I didn't see anything here with an address on it, letterhead, no signs on the trucks. Nice trucks though, so it made money, whatever it was.”
“I'm going by where I think we are. I know we crossed over water before we got here, a bridge across a viaduct, at least it looked that way in the dark. But we didn't cross a highway, and 60 is right there, couldn't have missed it. Of course, we could be a little farther north or a little more south. But even so we have to hit 60 it's right there, so I'm pretty sure the next thing up is going to be 60.”
Lana said nothing, the food was like heaven, but the crackers were a little dry so Johnny left and came back with a cup of water and a Coke. The Coke was also cold. She nearly drained it in one pull. It was like her body was bent on a mission of replenishing itself in one setting. She made herself stop. “Good, but I don't want to get sick.” She said to Johnny's raised eyebrows.