by Jason Offutt
Two people sat in the front seat and at least one sat in the back. No, no, there were two in the back. The car idled, or the engine was off, it was impossible to tell; and the people just sat there. “What are they doing?”
“Talking,” Ken said. “Talking about what they want to do; drive on, or come and join our happy little family.”
Lazarus put his hand on the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. Maybe Ken was right. If checkpoints had been up, that walkie-talkie would have already signaled him and he’d know what to do, instead of standing around staring at a car through a fence. The car moved forward, the silence eerie. It parked next to Telly O’Leery’s Olds Delta 88 at the Dairy Rite and the doors opened. Lazarus rubbed his belly. Two men stepped out, one a burley blond man, the other a dark-haired man on crutches. Two women followed them, a ginger woman and a serious girl with dark hair. Perfect. Lazarus pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt and fingered the push-to-talk button.
“Billy. Billy, you there?”
The walkie-talkie sat silent. He began to squeeze again when Billy Keck’s voice came through. “Yes, sir.”
He squeezed the button. “Go find Lois Eller. Tell her to get the Stinson house ready again. We’ve got company.” Lazarus clipped the walkie-talkie back onto his belt and smiled at Ken. “We’ll get two of them ready for the Greenhouse,” he said. Lazarus felt better than he did at the Whistlestop, much better away from those assholes who thought they knew better than him. “The other two are for Mac. Some of the people are starting to get ugly on me, Ken. I think we need a loyalty rally tonight.”
A sacrifice, you mean. Ken stood looking at Lazarus, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You want me to get the Gate?”
Lazarus raised a finger. Ken knew when to shut up. The fat man changed the channel on the walkie-talkie and talked into it again. “Gwenny. Gwenny darling, come in.”
A few seconds crept by before she responded. “Gwen here.”
“Gwenny, hun, we have guests. Four of them.” He paused, his breath raspy. “Prepare them a special lunch for the Stinson House, then supper at my place, say around 6 o’clock.”
A delay. Ken thought Lazarus looked pale today, not that he gave a shit.
Gwenny’s voice came back over the walkie-talkie. “How many do you want to turn?”
What was that in her voice? Was that–? Lazarus shook it off. No, it couldn’t be disgust. Not from Gwenny. Must be these damned muscle spasms, not thinkin’ straight. “Two,” he said. “Just two.”
Another pause. “I can have two regular sandwiches, two special and potato salad on their kitchen table before they get there. Four medium rare steaks and scalloped potatoes on your dining room table by 5:45,” she said.
Good girl, Gwenny. I can always count on you. “And bring some cold beer, if you will. These look like beer drinkers.” He gave her instructions on who got the Ophiocordon-laced food, then released the button and clipped the walkie-talkie back to his belt. Lazarus waved at Ken. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Ken Gundy pulled the medieval bar that sat across the two old barn doors and swung one open, the hinges creaked in protest. Lazarus stepped forward toward the newcomers, the ginger woman’s arm around the waist of the man on crutches. Lazarus spread his arms wide. Good Christ Almighty, Ken thought. He loves this shit. What a cold bastard.
“Welcome to Mayday, Kentucky, my friends. Your new home.”
***
A lawn mower fired up somewhere in town. Doug hadn’t heard a lawnmower since May and it sounded beautiful. A middle-aged woman in a straw hat stood in her lawn watering marigolds from a bright blue watering can; their host, who called himself Lazarus, told her good morning. She smiled and waved. Lazarus kept walking until he turned onto Main Street, past what looked like a grocery store. An open grocery store.
“You might not find everything you want in the Apple Market, but they have enough to get us by,” Lazarus said.
Dear God, this was more than Doug had hoped. A town. A real town, enclosed for safety and normal. At least, as normal as the end of the world could be. He looked around; as far as he could tell, this town was Mayberry. He half expected Andy Griffith to come walking down the sidewalk whistling. Doug swung his legs under his crutches as he intentionally lagged behind the group, taking in as much of this town as he could. Maybe there was a doctor here who could take off his cast in a couple of months. A smile broke across his face. Yes, sir. The feeling of dread in the car was still there, festering in his gut, but it was mostly hidden by the smell of flowers and life. Two men, one in overalls, the other in blue jeans and a red flannel shirt, stared at him as he shuffled behind the group and brought the dread up like they’d fished for it. Anger? Hatred? Contempt? What was that on their faces? Doug’s pace slowed as he stared back at them. They turned and kept walking, turning a corner and disappearing. It wasn’t anger, or hatred. It was fear. What were they afraid of?
He glanced around. More people were stopped in the street, just looking at them. A pretty young woman with a basket of greens in the crook of her arm walked past them, her eyes pinned to the sidewalk. A few months ago, she might have been in college, her future unwritten, now she was here, behind this fence. Doug watched her pass and duck into the Apple Market. Mayberry, or the Twilight Zone? The town was suddenly quiet, the lawnmower no longer running. Doug’s feeling of peace from just moments ago had devolved into stark terror.
“Are you okay, honey?” Doug jumped, his heart thumped heavily. Jenna stood in front of him on the well-swept sidewalk. A basket of apples and a sign that read, “Take one” sat next to them in front of the Apple Market. Doug didn’t realize he’d stopped.
“Yeah, fine.” Not fine.
Her smile pulled him back into motion. “Come on. The guy said we have a house, with beds and there’s running water.” She pulled on his arm. “A shower. I’m going to take one before lunch, then I’m going to take a nap. They have steak and potatoes here, Doug. That’s what we’re going to have for supper. Steak.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek and Doug wondered for the first time how many of those he had left. “You were right, Doug. You were right.”
Was I?
“Come on folks,” Lazarus said, standing fifteen feet down the sidewalk with Terry and Nikki. “I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll make sure the generator behind the house gets fired up just long enough for you to run the washing machine. Nothing like a shower, clean clothes, a nap and a belly full of food to make you feel like a brand-new person.”
Doug started moving. You were right, Doug. You were right. The looks on the men’s faces dragged the dread through the acid in his gut. Fear. But they weren’t afraid for themselves. They were afraid for us. What of the woman who wouldn’t even look at them? As Doug caught up with the group, he wondered if it wasn’t Andi who was right.
And there was something wrong with this Lazarus. Jesus brought the biblical Lazarus back from the dead. What kind of pretentious asshole would compare himself with a man from the Bible? A dangerous one. The guy looked sick, but it wasn’t his pale skin and sweaty face that worried Doug. It was the way he walked, the way he smiled. That man wasn’t right.
***
“This place is awesome.” Jenna stood in her and Doug’s bedroom, a white cotton towel around her torso, another in a turban around her hair. She bent over her foot that rested on a vanity chair, painting her nails red. This house had all the niceties a person could hope for when they really had nothing. Running water, nail polish, deodorant, snack crackers, sandwiches. A nice lady named Gwen served them lunch on the modest kitchen table, the wooden surface had a few scratches, but it was nicer than what he had in his kitchen back in Paola. Gwen passed out roast beef sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper and Styrofoam bowls of potato salad. It tasted like home. A cooler of local craft beer on ice had been sitting on the kitchen table when they walked into the house and Terry was already into his third.
Jenna leaned her elbows on her knee and studied Doug’s face. �
�Something’s bothering you. It has been since we got here. What’s going on?”
Yeah, what? A feeling? What good’s a feeling without facts to back it up? Doug sat on the edge of the bed, his crutches next to him. “Nothing. I’m just cautious. That’s all.”
She frowned. “Uh-huh. Whatever. Tell me when you’re ready. I’m going to go get a box of Ritz from the kitchen.” She started to walk toward the door, then stopped. “We can leave any time, you know? That Lazarus guy told us so. I might bitch about the beds, but if you want, we can go to that place in Tennessee.”
“I know.”
“But if it’s in any way less than this, I will never, ever let you forget it.”
Doug managed a smile. “I know.”
“Then as long as we have an understanding.” She walked out the door, intentionally wiggling her bottom like a dancer.
Fuck.
Doug leaned back on the bed, shoved his hand down the front of his pants and pulled out the walkie-talkie. The small device felt heavy in his hand. This town seemed perfect, the place he’d been dragging them to, a rustic paradise full of healthy, smiling people. But the people weren’t smiling, except the fat man at the gate, who named himself after a man who rose from the dead. What have I done? Doug clicked the push-to-talk button. “Andi. Andi, do you copy?”
Andi responded immediately.
“I’m here.”
“How are things at the Quick-n-Easy?” he asked and just as quickly winced. If someone were eavesdropping, he’d just given away their backup’s location.
“It’s quiet. Donnie’s locked himself in the cab of the Silverado. I’m having a Snickers bar. What about Mayday?”
Mayday. That’s what this call was, wasn’t it? A prelude to a mayday? Maybe I’m just jumpy. “Things look good here, but there’s something off about it. Like everybody’s got a secret they’re not telling us.”
Silence on Andi’s end, then she spoke “What’s the plan?”
The plan. The grand fucking plan. Find a place with people, a safe place to protect us from the zombies. That’s what this is, right? It even has a fucking grocery store. Doug pushed the switch. “We’re having a nap, then supper with the leader of the place, then we’re getting a full tour of the town. If things go south, I might not get a chance to call.”
Momentary static. “Then don’t. If I don’t hear from you by 6 p.m., I’m coming in.”
That’s no good. “There’s a guard at the front gate.”
Doug could almost hear Andi thinking through the static; she came back and asked for a layout of the town. Doug described what he’d seen. “If there’s a fence, there’s a weak spot and the town doesn’t sound big enough to have guards posted all around it. Let’s make that call 5 p.m. If I don’t hear from you by then, I come in. I’ll be traveling low. Nobody will see me coming.”
“Army?” Doug asked.
“Oklahoma. My father was a hunter. A good one. I learned from the best.”
Doug grinned. This girl’s daddy wanted a boy. “Gotcha. I hope I get to see you after an all clear.”
“Me, too. Over.”
Doug flicked the switch to off and slipped the walkie-talkie back into the front of his pants. His Beretta M9 still sat in the small of his back, pressed tightly into skin by a brown belt his mother gave him for Christmas four years ago. Terry’s sat under the front seat of the Prius with an empty clip. Jenna and Nikki had nowhere to put theirs. Doug was the only one with a weapon; what good would that do against a whole town?
Jenna strutted back into the bedroom with a box of Ritz crackers under her arm and a wet, cold bottle of Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale in each hand. She kicked the white, wooden door closed behind her, hooked a thumb into the towel around her body and shimmied it off. She stood in front of Doug, her porcelain skin smooth and dotted with freckles. “Hello, sunshine.”
She handed Doug a beer and sat hers and the box of crackers on the bedside table. “Don’t get any ideas, buster.” She stopped and grinned. “No, I think I might want you to get an idea or two. We’ve got four hours till supper with the bossman and you’ve got to drop your pants anyway if you want those clothes washed.” She stood naked and touched the cold beer bottle to her stomach, slowly moving it up to her breasts.
Fear was for later. He started unbuttoning his shirt.
***
“I know you.” Jenna stared at the man who had welcomed them to town. Something about him looked familiar. Damned familiar. She cocked her head and stared at him across the table. She knew that face, for some reason she knew it. Was he on ‘Survivor’? No, not ‘Survivor’.
Doug grabbed her hand under the table and gently squeezed. Keep low, keep inconspicuous, baby. Don’t poke the bear. “Jenna, honey. This is rural Kentucky, not New York. It’s not like you just ran into Christopher Walken at the deli.” He’d felt good during their short stay at the little white house. Lazarus was right. Clean clothes, a nap and food did wonders. He didn’t mention sex; that helped, too. Something was different about Jenna. She was wild, never letting him get on top. And when she came, her orgasm was violent. He was sure the whole town knew they’d had sex.
“She’s right,” Nikki said in the midst of cutting a piece of steak. “I’ve seen you, too. You were on the news, weren’t you?”
Lazarus sat back in his chair and sipped water from a wine goblet. His smile biting, like an eel’s. “I’m the man who didn’t die.”
Jenna slapped the table. “Good Morning America,” she shouted. “Yes. Good Morning America. You started screaming about being holy, or something and then you disappeared.”
Shut up, goddamnit.
“I saw the raw footage on YouTube.” Jenna waved a piece of medium-well meat at Lazarus. “They dragged you off stage.”
Doug dropped his right hand beneath the table. The gun sat in his belt, less than a foot away from his fingers. Lazarus took another drink of water and laughed.
“That’s what happened, yes,” he said, the words came out slowly.
“Then your name’s not really Lazarus,” Jenna said. “I mean, your parents didn’t look at you in the hospital and say, ‘we’re going to name this baby Lazarus.’” She took a drink of beer and wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin. “What’s your real name?”
Doug’s hand inched backward. Andi was on her way by now, but she wouldn’t be here fast enough.
Lazarus stared at his plate for a moment, the steak barely touched. When he looked up, his face was grave. “My name was Tim Hardy.” He sat his elbows on the table and clutched his hands. “I’m no longer Tim Hardy. I survived Ophiocordon, the drug that killed everyone else who took it. They said I was dead. I woke in the hospital in a body bag, but I was not dead. I rose from the dead. I am Lazarus.”
Jenna hiccupped, then giggled. Jesus, Jenna. How many beers did you have at the house? “Although I appreciate your position, your name’s Tim. Tim, Tim, Timmy Tim-Tim. Lazarus makes you sound like a douche.” She ate a forkful of scalloped potatoes and sat back in her chair. “I feel great,” she said.
Lazarus’ face melted into a chuckle. “I’m glad you feel so good,” he said. “That means it’s working.” He picked up a glass ornament from the cloth-covered table and jiggled it. It rang in a high-pitched, crystal chime. A bell. Who’s he calling?
“What’s working, Lazarus?” Doug asked. He looked at Terry. Terry sat slumped in his chair, asleep. He was fucking asleep sitting up. What the hell?
“The Ophiocordon,” Lazarus said, wiping drops of water from his lips with his napkin and dropping it onto his barely touched plate. “It was in her food.” Jenna laughed out loud. Lazarus pointed at Terry. “And his. It’s all part of the plan.”
Doug’s right hand shot to the back of his pants, the hard handle of the Beretta on his fingertips. A figure loomed to his right, coming quickly out of the kitchen into the dining room. The hard man from the Gate. He pulled his arm back and Doug felt his world explode as a calloused fist collided with his jaw.
He collapsed onto the floor, the Beretta skittering across the hardwood. Jenna laughed. Ophiocordon. Holy shit.
Nikki threw back her chair and ran for the living room and the front door. Ken Gundy, the man at the Gate, launched himself over the table, scattering steak and half-empty beer bottles onto the floor. He landed on top of her, Nikki’s breath shot from her chest and she slammed into the floor. She sucked in air, but with the big body on her back she felt like she was drowning. A cord wrapped around her wrists and twisted tight.
Lazarus sat in his chair, his water glass in his hand. He pointed at Jenna and Terry. “Take those two to the Greenhouse and strap them down.” He motioned to Doug, then Nikki. “And take them to the Corral for tonight. Tenderize them, but don’t break anything. The folks at the loyalty rally like it when there’s still some fight in the big show.”
Ken grabbed a fistful of Nikki’s thick, black hair and started to drag her across the floor of Lazarus’ dining room; Nikki screamed and thrashed in his grip. Lazarus laughed. “She’s got some spunk, that one. The people are going to love her.”
August 1: Mayday, Kentucky
Chapter 18
The call never came. Andi stood outside the Subaru loading clips; sweat running down her back in the stifling August heat of the abandoned Shell station. Her weapon lay on top of the car next to the quiet walkie-talkie, her sidearm in its holster. The falling sun sent hard beams of light through the high windows, dust danced in the still air. The smell of grease and gasoline dragged up visions of Hutchings’ Service Station back home, where Big Andy stood around and drank beer with Mitch and Kelly while Old Man Hutchings patched a tire. Andi would just sit at Old Man Hutchings’ grease-stained desk eating shell peanuts from a fifty-pound sack and listen to her father and his friends talk about cars and football. The station closed when Old Man Hutchings died and Big Andy, Mitch and Kelly had to find some other place to drink beer.
Andi shoved the full clips into the cammo gear she wore now instead of blue jeans and a T-shirt, the multiple pockets in the fatigues and the military utility belt made her feel like Batman. She was glad she kept the military gear, although she’d hoped she wouldn’t need it again. Andi picked up a tire iron from the concrete floor of the garage and dropped it onto the passenger seat of the Subaru. Quiet meant quiet. If she ran into a monster in the woods, the solid metal tool would ruin a zombie’s skull a lot more silently than a bullet. She was going to drive up to two miles from Mayday, far enough away no one in town could hear the Subaru, then hide the car and sneak into town. The trees in this part of Kentucky were thick enough she was sure she could get there without anyone noticing. Andi stuffed four MREs and five bottles of water into her backpack, along with the first aid kit. She clipped the walkie-talkie to the utility belt. Not that it would do her any good. Doug was under radio silence and presumably something went wrong, or he would have called. Andi looked at her watch; it was 5:05 p.m. She tossed the backpack into the back seat and slid her weapon between the front buckets of the Subaru. It was time.