by TW Brown
She nodded and then wrapped her arms around my neck in a hug that I didn’t think was ever going to end. I have to admit, it felt warm and touched my heart. I guess it was a lot like the hysterical laughing fit in a lot of ways. I hadn’t really thought about it, but now that I was, I could not remember the last real hug I’d received from anybody. I’m not saying that there weren’t any…I just could not remember them at the moment.
It seemed like that was it for the send offs. If you looked east, you could see that hint of a glow that comes just before dawn. It was time to get moving.
“I’ll be back soon,” I called over my shoulder as I headed for the trees.
If our guess was correct, they had stopped when we did. The last place that we had seen them was on the edge of a clear cut swath up on the ridge to our right. It didn’t seem that far if you were just looking at it. After an hour of hiking, the sun was coming up on what promised to be a beautiful day…if you trust appearances.
8
Vignettes XXXIX
The week passed as Harold worked feverishly modifying their outfits. Vix spent the time going through the collection of medieval weapons. Many were simply too heavy for either her or Gemma to wield with any real effect.
Gemma spent her time looking over Harold’s shoulder and asking questions. Before long, she was actively helping as he gave her small tasks to accomplish.
It was a peaceful time for all of them. But on the third day, Vix realized that there might be a problem. She was sipping from her water bottle and went to the case for another. Only seven bottles remained. Without noticing, they had worked through their entire supply. There had been no measureable rain the past few days, and today, the sky was clear and blue.
She popped in to mention this to the others, but they were so hard at work that she decided perhaps it was time that she do something for the group. After all, she was not going to venture far.
Since her suit was already finished—Harold had insisted on doing hers first, then Gemma, and finally his own—she was able to don it and embark on her mission. His reasoning had been that if they were forced to abandon everything, he would be the one least needing protection since he was immune to the bite.
Vix opened the door that led to a long corridor that they had barricaded very soundly. She reached the end and gave a listen. Not a sound could be heard from the other side. As careful as possible, she removed the wooden brace that prevented the door from opening. As long as a huge mob did not come, the closed door should be fine to prevent any zombies from stumbling upon Harold and Gemma.
Of course, the voice in her head kept telling her that this was a poor choice. It was always the one person who decided to go it alone that would fall victim to a zombie that had remained while all the others wandered off to do whatever it was that zombies did while not trying to eat people.
She dismissed that voice. So far, this had turned out to be nothing like her books or movies. It would simply be too cliché for her to fall victim in such a manner. As long as she was cautious, all should be well.
Vix opened the door and looked out at the large, open and—at least for the moment—empty museum. Well, she thought, empty was not exactly correct. There were plenty of bodies scattered about. The stench of death was prevalent. It was a putrid odor that almost hurt her nostrils it was so strong and offensive.
As she approached the first inanimate corpse, she noticed something else that seemed to have been left out of her books: bugs. Not just flies and maggots, but all manner of insect was crawling over the rotting zed. There was a black stain on the floor that almost appeared to be alive it was so rife with movement.
Vix paused to look. She felt as if she were drawn to this repulsive scene and could not force herself to ignore it.
“It’s bloody hypnotic,” she mumbled shocked at the sound of her own voice in the silence. It had a strange tin quality that made it seem alien to her ears.
As she followed the signs that led to the cafeteria, she had to brush away at all the flying insects. There were thousands of them buzzing about. Thankfully, none of them seemed interested in her.
At last, she reached the cafeteria. It was littered with debris. She smirked at the fact that the place was empty. That was yet another difference in real life from the movies. In her films, there would always be a dried corpse or two at the tables. No explanation of why they just sat there and died. It looked good and set a mood, but seriously, who would just sit at a table in any eatery and die in his or her half-eaten bowl of soup?
She reached the queue and moved down to the end. Here was a defunct cooler. She looked inside and was elated to discover bottles of water and assorted carbonated beverages. She opened the sliding glass door and was staggered by the foul odor. After fighting down the bile that rose in the back of her throat, she began to stuff her pack with the bottles of water. She left the sodas. She knew that most of them were sugar and caffeine. Neither of which were actually any good at quenching thirst no matter what those ridiculous commercials claimed on the telly.
She made her way back to the wing where Harold and Gemma were no doubt still hard at work. As she secured the door behind her once again, she smiled. No clichés here, she thought. She had not seen a single zed moving during her little quest.
As she walked in to the open dock area where Harold and Gemma were exactly as she left them, she allowed herself a quiet giggle. Very little in the way of excitement going on…just another thing missing from her stories; those people never caught a break. It was like a Dr. Who episode…a great deal of frantic running with a few clever jests woven in for fun.
She sat her bag down with a satisfied feeling. Perhaps this was not some grand adventure after all. Maybe survival in the zombie apocalypse was dull…dreadfully dull once the initial fright was past.
“Toss me a drink, please,” Harold called. He stood and wiped the sweat from his forehead and removed his gloves.
Vix plucked one of the new bottles of water and presented it to Harold. He didn’t even seem to notice that the label was a different brand than what they had been drinking. He twisted the cap and took a long gulp…then spit it out, tossing the bottle aside.
“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “That tastes positively foul!”
Vix paled.
***
With a flick of the wrist, Juan cut the line that bound April’s hands. A few more cuts and the coils fell away. April felt a stinging sensation as blood returned to places that had been starving.
“You can go,” Juan said. “But…you can’t come back to the island. Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. If I see you, I will kill you on sight.”
“You can’t be serious,” April gasped. “How do you expect me to survive on my own?”
“Pretty damn well,” Juan said with a nod. “You are a pretty tough chick. If I didn’t think you had a chance…I would have killed you out of mercy.”
“But—” April began, but Juan cut her off.
“Don’t even bother.” Juan held his hand up to silence her protest. “I won’t ever be able to trust you. The thing is, I have made changes in my life. But I knew folks like you when I was in the system…parole officers and counselors who only saw what the screen told them about a person. People change every day, but for some reason, if a criminal tries to do it…too many folks just can’t believe it is possible.
“I did a lot of bad things in my life that I am ashamed of…and Mackenzie has an idea that I have a dark past. The thing is, she is ready to take me as I am.” Juan stepped back from April, his face grim and determined. “I can’t lose her…or anything else that I have fought so hard to make.”
“Sending me out there alone is as good as killing me,” April argued. She didn’t really believe that in her core, but she had to admit that she was scared of the prospect.
“And bringing you back means that I will have to look over my shoulder every minute of every day.”
“I won’t say anything,” April insis
ted. “Besides…you have me in the same boat now with Kip and Vin.”
“I killed Vin,” Juan reminded her.
“After I basically crippled him.”
“Listen, you look at me, and all you see is a criminal. Say what you want now, but sooner or later, the fear or whatever might keep your mouth shut for a while would wear off. When it did, you would spin your story and then you could say whatever you want. It would be your word…an upstanding citizen, versus mine. You ain’t the only person who has a hard spot for folks who did time. That’s the way people are…mostly because it makes them feel better about themselves.”
“Isn’t there any way—” April started to ask, but Juan cut her off.
“Nope.”
The two stood in silence for a few minutes. Juan’s gut was twisting from all the tension and adrenaline. It had been a long time since he felt this way. He’d actually been doing his best to live a clean life before the deaders came. He’d done some pan-handling. A couple of times, he had lifted a few things from the store, but mostly he had been walking fairly straight.
Who are you kidding? the voice in his head that he had not heard in a while spoke up. It wasn’t like he actually ‘heard’ voices. But there was that part of him that loved to point out that he was basically no good…just like his mom had always said.
Juan motioned April towards the door. Her shoulders slumped and she headed for the ladder and climbed down. A stack of boxes could be clearly seen through the open doors of the warehouse. As they walked, Juan stared at the back of April’s head, his hand flexing on the hilt of his machete. Now would be the time to end it if he wanted to do things quick and easy. If he swung right this moment, he would not have to see the look in her eyes as death came.
They reached the crates and Juan let his hand slide off the weapon. If he killed her now, he would basically be proving her right. If he killed her now, he would not be worthy of Mackenzie…of the others.
He had done a few things lately that were on the edge, but he had good reason. After all, Frank was set to kill him. He had drawn his weapon first. It was simply a bad circumstance that had allowed the zombies in to kill those two, not anything that he had planned to do.
“I really am sorry it has to end up this way,” Juan said. “And in case you are wondering…I will kill you on sight after today.”
Juan watched as April dug through the crates. He had made sure that there were a few sturdy bladed weapons, some MREs, a backpack, sleeping bag, and first aid kit. A baggie had some wooden matches, but there was also a flint and steel set in a leather pouch.
Once all of it had been stored and she had shouldered her pack, Juan gave her one more piece of information. She could do with it what she chose.
“In Donna’s house, there is a pistol and a box of bullets. It is only a .22, but it will kill a zombie if you get in a jam,” he said.
“A freakin’ .22!” April scoffed.
“Should do you just fine for starters. I doubt you will have any trouble finding a better weapon if you look.” Jean started for the boat and paused. “Oh…and if you seriously think you can slip back on that island, you are wrong. We have been rigging motion detectors. I have a repeater for that system at my place. I will personally check on any and all disturbances.”
That was mostly true. They were setting up motion detectors. And as soon as the stuff for the solar power set up could be put in place, they would have the beginnings of a power grid. There was also talk of wind turbines and bio-fuel. Juan didn’t know a damn thing about any of it. It was hopeful that they could have at least some of it in place by next winter…but none of that was for sure. She didn’t need to know that.
Juan watched as April headed up to the train tracks. He moved up to a spot so that he could continue to observe her. She was a few hundred yards away when the walkers came out of the woods. At first it was just a few. April did not seem too bothered as she waded in and put the first couple of them down.
She was just pulling her weapon free, when she seemed to freeze. Her head turned Juan’s direction and he heard her yell something, but could not quite make out what it was she was saying. A few seconds later, he didn’t need to hear her words. She began to run back towards him. She had covered very little ground when she came to an abrupt halt.
It was like somebody had kicked an ant hill. Zombies poured out of the woods, cutting off any chance April had of making it to him. She yelled something else which he could not hear, but her extended middle finger conveyed enough of the message. She had gotten almost back to the few bodies she’d left from her first little skirmish when she stopped again.
More zombies were pouring from the woods in that direction as well, effectively cutting off her retreat. That left her only one choice. She would have to turn right and try to climb the steep hill that would take her up to a residential district. It would take her back to where that last mob had come from.
Juan climbed up onto the actual train tracks and shielded his eyes with his hands. Scanning the ridge she would have to climb, Juan could see a few street lights. He tried to remember the area, but the last time he’d come through, he’d been in a bit of a hurry.
April was busy fighting her way to the trees. From there, he would not be able to keep an eye on her or know if she made it. Taking a deep breath, he considered the situation. As it was, he would be going back to the group and telling them that something terrible had happened to the people he’d left behind. He’d already heard some individuals take issue with the fact that he’d supposedly left three of their group behind in order to bring a full boat of supplies. Announcing that the three people he’d left had all perished would be a hit to his “popularity”; but that was a price he was willing to pay.
This most recent situation would allow him to at least justify to himself that he would no longer technically be lying. If April died now, that would solve a lot of his problems.
He watched April break free from a few and shove another aside as she continued to try desperately to get to the woods and that steep incline. The thing about that hill in her favor was the fact that deaders would really struggle to continue to follow her. It might as well be a fifty foot high wall. However, what would she find once she reached the top? Was she jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire?
He had no doubt that the mob that had followed them would be greatly disbursed. If any remained that had not pursued them down that hill, they could have wandered off by now, or…they could be standing around waiting for the next meal to arrive.
Juan saw April vanish into the woods. He thought he saw her look back at him one more time. He stood there another few seconds watching several walkers vanish into the brush on her heels.
Juan headed down to the flat open space in front of the warehouses. To the left lay the water, the boat, and home. To the right…the beat up truck that he had used to bring all of the supplies…and then April after that ugly situation with Kip and Vin.
***
“Take her!” Kyle thrust his sister into her husband’s arms. He glanced and saw Xander sleeping peacefully in the hammock he had rigged. Glenn took his wife and clutched her to his chest.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” Mel demanded, standing in the middle of the doorway. Her short blond hair was matted to her head and her face was smeared with blood and just a little dirt; that made her hazel eyes stand out all the more.
“Did you hear that?” Kyle placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders and looked down at her. Mel was by no means a short woman at five feet and eight inches tall, but Kyle still towered over her…not that she was in least bit intimidated.
“Yes, and it sounded like there would be no reason for you to go risking yourself to check it out.” Mel crossed her arms and planted her feet. She had no intention of stepping aside.
“That person might still be alive,” he argued.
“Might is no longer a valid reason…I believe those were your words a few months ago.”
Kyle scowled; he knew very well the situation she was referring to and he also knew that he had no way to win this disagreement…until another scream sounded from even closer.
“Please! Help!” a woman’s voice cried.
Kyle met his wife’s stare now with a bit more confidence. While he was by no means under her thumb, he defied any man who sought a happy marriage to say that he was truly in charge. And when it came to Mel, he was happy if it was a sixty-forty split. Thankfully, she stepped aside.
“Okay, I need you to keep those zombies focused on you while I head down the rope bridge to the other house. I will be going down and coming back up from there…so, just do your thing.” Kyle patted his wife on the arm and smiled.
She might not admit it, but she found therapy in this little exercise. They used it lots of times over the past several months when the need arose.
As Kyle slipped around the back side of the circular treehouse he could hear Mel already starting. She always amazed him in these moments. Before the zombies, it had been Saturdays when they attended all the Stanford football home games. The first time they went, he was stunned when that first burst of profanity that would have embarrassed a longshoreman spewed from her mouth.
What impressed him even more was that she was completely unapologetic. She only offered one explanation.
“Sports Tourette’s,” she said with a shrug when she looked over to see him staring with his mouth agape. “Football is a religion in my house. You got a problem with that?”
“Nope,” he’d said with a shrug.
“Good, because if you are over for Thanksgiving…well, there are about thirty of us around the television at first kickoff. There is beer before noon and a considerable amount of gambling…only half involve actual cash.” Mel had gone back to watching the game and he was never certain, but he thought she had flashed him a dirty look for having missed two plays during her time speaking to him.