“Like, hiring and firing?”
“More hiring than firing actually. Could never stand giving people the axe.” He chuckled at the irony. “Now look at me. Anyway, I was a paper pusher, a recruiter. The firm specialized in finding talent for the insurance industry. Executive level. You know, CEOs and board members and shit like that. My office was on the thirty-fifth floor of the Carcher Building on Seventy-First Avenue, looking out over the river.” He realized with a start that maybe that was why he disliked being close to the river. It was from the river the zombies had first come. For a while, they even thought it might’ve been something in the water.
“Karen worked a few floors up, for First Midland. That’s how we met. She was in the lobby waiting for me one evening when the Uprising reached us. Those of us that survived got out, but a lot died when they torched the place.”
Reggie was silent for a moment. Then he stopped walking and started chuckling. His laughter grew until his body shook with it.
“What’s so funny? It was a horrible thing that happened.”
“I’m sorry, Bill. I wasn’t laughing about that. It’s just that…I just realized you were a headhunter before you became a Headhunter. It’s destiny. You should be really good at this.”
“Funny. Ha ha.”
They walked on in silence a few minutes more before Bill asked, “Do you really believe in what we’re doing?”
“What choice do I have?” He shrugged. “I’m leading the flock home.”
“You’re rationalizing.”
“Yes, maybe I am.”
The pain in his eyes surprised Bill.
When they reached the far edge of the field and their feet once more settled on the reliable surface of a paved road, Reggie said, “I do sometimes wonder if this is what God intended of us. I have to believe it is. It’s hard, though, trying not to be distracted by…earthly considerations. My family, for example, wondering if they’re safe. Always having in the back of my mind how we’re going to survive. But then I think about my precious, innocent Isabelle—so young and vulnerable and unable to fend for herself—and I know I have no choice. Other than to believe this is all for a reason. It must be His will, otherwise….”
Bill pursed his lips to keep what he was thinking to himself. He doubted God had anything to do with any of this. But then he remembered Reggie’s words from earlier: We’re not the Damned, we’re the Deliverers. And something clicked.
Reggie was looking for Redemption, the kind with a big R. Maybe it was because of his former life. Maybe because of the way his congregation had treated him. In the end, though, they were both guilty of the same things: of trying to justify what they had become, of seeking redemption.
Except the kind Bill wanted was the kind with a little r. Once he found the monster that had taken Karen from him, then he’d finally be able to let go. So what if it didn’t buy him a ticket to Heaven? Fine by him. At least then he’d finally get some peace.
The road lost itself in the darkness ahead, drawing them forth as if they were attached by a rope. Finally they came around a turn and the road rose toward the horizon and the horizon glowed with a faint yellowish light: the power plant.
They walked on without speaking. The contents of Bill’s sack bumped his leg, spilling its wetness onto the cuff of his jeans, soaking his socks, filling his boots. Maybe when they were finished tonight, before he returned to his small, dark apartment, he’d let the river wash it all from his clothes, the months of dirt and blood. He’d walk into the water and sink down into it, letting it flow over him. He’d let it all wash away.
You need to focus, my darling.
The moon was high by the time they drew within sight of the front gate of the power plant. Reggie recognized it first. The harsh light spilled out at them in unrelenting waves, and the hum of the plant’s generators filled the air. The two hunters slipped into the trees. They crept forward, keeping their eyes on the road but staying out of view of it.
At last the trees gave way to open ground, a carefully manicured lawn that served as a buffer between forest and fence. They crouched behind a pair of close set pines and scanned the fence line.
“There,” Reggie whispered. He nudged Bill, then pointed. A shadow had separated itself from the solid, unmoving darkness near a guard shack. It seemed to loiter just beyond the gate, as if waiting for something to come through it. Then the shadow split. “Two. Our lucky night,” Reggie said excitedly. “One for each of us.”
“What’s the plan?”
“I’m going to flank them from the other side of the road. Wait for me to come out, then we’ll go.”
Reggie slipped silently back the way they had come, far enough back so that when he crossed the road, even Bill couldn’t see him. Twenty minutes or so passed and Bill was afraid their prey might wander off, but they didn’t. At last he caught a glint of steel in the darkness fifty or so feet deep into the woods on the other side of the road. A shadow drew forth. He watched as Reggie crept low over the grass, moving silently until he was just on the fringe of the floodlights’ reach.
Leaving the sack behind, Bill stole out from his own hiding place, his machete in hand. Reggie gestured with a chopping motion of his arm and they both began to sprint across the grass. The two figures were still huddled together, their backs to the road, unaware of the attack.
When he and Reggie were halfway across the grass, the closer one looked up. The other saw them a fraction of a second later, but by then it was already too late. The two figures careened off each other before turning to their attackers. Bill raised his machete and prepared to swing.
Five yards ahead of him, Reggie’s knife slashed in a brilliant flash. The floodlights burned brighter, almost as if he had sliced open the night itself and ushered in the sun. The monster closest to him gurgled once, a spray of blood arching through the air. It stumbled forward, nearly into Reggie’s arms.
The other had been quicker to recover. It turned just as Bill closed the gap between them. Its hideous mouth agape in what seemed like a smile, and from it came a horrific sound, a scream of outrage that sent shivers down Bill’s spine. He swung, but it was too fast, ducking out of the way as the blade passed harmlessly through the air over its head. Thrown off balance by the miss, he lurched forward and past. Time seemed to slow. The suspended mist seemed to crystallize in the bright light. He could see each and every droplet hanging frozen in the air.
Then a great weight crushed against his side. He spun and fell against the fence, bouncing off it and back toward the monster. They both stopped short, as if each was surprised to see the other still standing.
“Move, Bill!”
Bill scrambled away just as the monster reached out for him, but the fence blocked him from retreating any further. Now he was the one trapped by it!
“Reggie!”
“Kinda busy here!”
Incredibly, the first monster was still alive, still on its feet, though its head seemed to be attached at an impossible angle. Blood was spurting from the gash. It was holding a hand against the wound, yet it did little to stop the flow. Seeing an advantage, Reggie slipped into its blind spot and moved in for the kill.
Bill marveled that the creature was even still standing. The blow that Reggie had delivered should have been fatal, but the beast’s slow brain obviously hadn’t gotten the message yet. It made a strangled sound and lunged clumsily after Reggie, landing a spastic blow that almost disarmed him.
Bill sensed motion beside him and swung his arm out to defend himself, but his feet slipped on the bloody ground and the machete once more missed its target. He felt another hard blow, this one to his head. Then a hand closed over his throat and squeezed with unbelievable strength.
The weight of the creature forced him down. He heard his shirt rip against the fence, felt himself sinking. Off balance, his muscles weakened by starvation, he tried to push back, but he had no leverage. The monster’s putrid breath was full on his face, stinking like death. Its foo
t pinned Bill’s machete and hand to the ground. He swiped at its face with his other hand, going for the eyes. But it was too strong and casually deflected it away. The grip tightened even more around his throat, choking off his air. Darkness descended over him like a black fog, and the air buzzed and crowded around him, growing into a roar that seemed to shake the ground beneath him. His vision filled with the beast’s hideous white face, its horrible sharp teeth drawing closer.
Summoning the last of his strength, Bill reached behind him. His injured shoulder screamed out in agony. He bit through the pain and tugged at the knife, but it wouldn’t move. It was caught in the fence, wedged between it and his back.
“No!” he screamed, but his voice sounded weak and far away.
But then, just as the darkness was about to close over everything, the weight on him lifted away. The creature had slipped on its companion’s blood. Together, they tumbled away from the fence. Bill felt his shirt catch for a moment, twisting him around so that he fell on top of the beast. He reached back and pulled the knife free from his belt.
With a final effort, he jerked his hand around, his shoulder screaming in pain, and thrust upwards, up until the hilt of the knife stopped against the belly of the beast. Then he gave it a good, hard twist.
A look of surprise seemed to come over its face. Its grip weakened for a second, but a second was all Bill needed. He pushed it away with his knee. Thrusting himself away the fence, he launched himself past the head of the creature. In one fluid movement, he swiped the blade across its throat and watched as the life fled from the monster’s dark, soulless eyes.
“Told you…that knife…would come in handy.”
Bill looked over to where Reggie was standing, hands on his knees, panting with exertion. The ex-preacher cursed under his breath, chuckled, then straightened up and wiped the blood from his face.
Bill staggered away from the body, dropping the knife as he went. His arms and legs trembled. He badly needed to rest. He badly needed to eat.
“You’re not done yet, Bill. What have I taught you? Finish him off!”
“You do it,” Bill shouted, stumbling onto the grass.
“Bill, you know—”
“You do it!” he screamed. His voice echoed against the buildings. “You need it more than I do! I don’t want it! Take care of your family.”
He heard the high shinggggg of a blade as it sliced through the monster’s neck, hitting bone, ripping free. Then the heavy sound of Reggie’s footsteps running after him. Bill felt his arm getting grabbed. He could hear Reggie talking, but he could not hear the words. All he could feel was this huge crushing sensation, as if the world was collapsing around him, and a vague sensation of being dragged back into the safety of the woods.
“What’s the matter with you?” Reggie hissed. “Get a grip!”
Bill fell to his knees holding his head in his hands. “Why are we doing this?” he moaned. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”
“Why? Because we have to,” Reggie answered. He dropped the bloody knife next to him, but kept the pair of heads they’d just collected. These he would keep. Bill felt his anger rise for a moment, then pushed it away. He had no right to be angry with Reggie.
“And you’ll do it as long as you need to, Bill.”
Then Reggie left him in the trees while he slipped back for the rest of their equipment.
When he returned several minutes later, he had Bill’s sack, which he’d retrieved from their hiding spot near the gate.
“We need to leave,” he whispered harshly. “The place is crawling, and even more are coming. There’s too many for us to take.”
Bill could hear them now, drawn by the noise and the smell of their own blood, and he remembered what Reggie had said—they will be drunk on their own blood—and he trembled. But still he didn’t get up.
“I couldn’t get your machete.”
Bill waved him off. It had totally failed him this time. If not for Gary’s knife, he would’ve been—
But you weren’t.
He grabbed his sack and stumbled to his feet, just as shadows from the approaching figures passed over them. Footsteps came closer. He could smell them now.
“Run!” Reggie urged.
They ran then, blindly crashing through the forest. They ran until they came to a trail, and still they were being followed—hunters becoming the hunted—so they pressed on.
They kept running, gasping, swimming in the moonlight that now showered down on them. They ran until, finally, the sounds of their frustrated pursuers faded away.
They headed back toward the river, avoiding the main road this time for fear of being seen.
Reggie was the first to break the silence. “I’m done, Bill.”
Bill nodded. After the way he’d acted tonight, he didn’t blame Reggie for telling him to shove off. “Well, you got two heads. That’s a decent bounty for one night.”
“No, Bill. I mean I’m done with this place, with…here. I’m surprised you haven’t given up before now, what with all the Headhunters overrunning the city.”
“It’s not so bad out here.”
“Tell that to Gary and the others.”
Bill nodded. He’d wondered if the attack at the mall had anything to do with this.
“Admit it, Bill. The cities have become barely controlled chaos. They’ve gone to mob rule; people are breaking into apartments, killing indiscriminately. Act first, ask later. One of these days, it’s going to my apartment they bust the door down to. Then what? How am I going to keep my family safe?”
“What about the flock? I thought it was your job to deliver them to Heaven?” Bill hadn’t meant to sound so spiteful, but there it was. It really had just been all an act.
“My family is also my flock.”
“So all that talk was just—”
“I still believe, Bill. But sometimes faith isn’t enough, right? Faith won’t put food on the table. It won’t keep the beast from your door.”
Bill kept silent for a moment. He didn’t know what to say.
“I’m glad we had one last chance to hunt together, Bill. I’ve always respected your…choices.”
“So, just like that, you’re leaving? Where will you go?”
“Well, to start off, someplace where there are fewer hunters, less competition.”
“Yeah, but where?”
Reggie didn’t answer at first. Then: “North. To Canada.”
“No, seriously.”
“I am serious. It’s less crowded up there.”
“Hell yeah it is. Why do you think it’s less crowded? It’s too fucking cold!”
“We’ll make do.” Reggie hesitated before adding: “Why don’t you come with us, Bill? There was going to be more of us, Gary and the Cartwright twins, but….”
“So that’s why you hunted with them the other night. You were recruiting? Who’s the headhunter now? But, no, I can’t, and you know why.”
“Finding the one who took Karen from you won’t bring her back. And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them. Revenge isn’t the answer, Bill.”
“Maybe not, but it’s all I’ve got.”
Bill watched his friend go. A part of him wanted to follow, but he knew that he couldn’t. What Reggie was looking for didn’t exist. There was no salvation for any of them.
But there was redemption.
He walked on, letting his feet drag, dreading the river crossing. When he came to the old farm, he stopped to look for his glasses.
Dawn was still a couple hours away, and the winds had picked up, bringing the night’s first hints of the approaching winter. He shivered, mostly out of habit since he wasn’t cold. The breeze had shredded the fog, carried it away. Somewhere, a rooster crowed, apparently surprised by the sudden shift in the weather. A dog barked in the distance. Trees swayed, shrugging off the last of their dead or dying leaves.
He cut across t
he barnyard to the scene of their earlier encounter. The body was gone from where they had left it, almost certainly scavenged by now, probably by wolves, though possibly by the dog he’d heard just a moment ago. The blood that was left behind was congealed and cold. He marked the trail it left into the gloom, past the corner of the old house and up toward the woods. There was no sign of his glasses in the scuffed up dirt.
His legs shook from the night’s exertion, from his hunger, from the incredible weight of his guilt.
He truly was the Damned, wasn’t he?
There is no Damned, only the hunter and the hunted.
But if there is no Damned, then how can there be Redemption?
I never asked for it. And neither did you.
No, but he realized now that it had always been what he wanted. Not the kind of redemption one got by satisfying some personal vendetta, but by making a much larger sacrifice.
There will be no sacrificing.
But he already had sacrificed, hadn’t he? For her.
With a sigh he entered the barn. He laid the knife beside the chopping block and settled himself on top. Wind blew through the open door but did not reach him.
He let the sack drop between his feet, watching it settle in a small hollow a short distance away. He toed it back within reach.
Sunrise was now only an hour away. He’d have just enough time to get back to his apartment—no time to let the river wash his clothes this morning. Another promise broken. How long had it been since he’d last felt the sun on his skin? Twelve months since the Outbreak, he remembered again. Such things were getting harder to recall. After that, the surprise attack on the Carcher Building, the day he had made Karen wait for him in the lobby. They had tried to run; he had escaped.
She hadn’t.
It was all his fault: he’d been the one who had kept them there past dusk with his last minute reports. With that one decision, he’d damned her to the undead. Now she was gone.
He’d spent the next few months looking for her. And when he did find her—in the shell of the old GAP store downtown, though he couldn’t understand why she had chosen such a place—she hadn’t even recognized him, not until he had followed her into that darkness. Then, finally, they were together again.
The Headhunter (Shorting the Undead & Other Horrors) Page 3