by Zuko, Joseph
Cooper and Paul struggled to see the church from inside the semi. Most of the interior windows were covered in dark red sludge.
“There she goes,” Cooper whispered to himself.
Warm spring air whipped through the cab as they accelerated. The breeze helped flush the rancid smell penetrating Paul’s nostrils.
My faith, restored. Paul was at peace.
I should have died in that field, yet I survived.
This was the proof Paul needed.
God has a plan for me.
Their escape was all he needed to keep his faith afloat. At least for now.
Paul’s tone was measured. His words precise. He attempted to capture a flicker of the man he was a day ago. “It is only a building. Nothing more.”
Cooper’s eyes darted from the road to Paul and back. “You don’t believe that.” Cooper shifted gears. “Of all people, you can’t believe it was only a building.” They closed the distance between them and the caravan of fleeing vehicles.
Paul searched the cab as he continued, “It was the people, not the place, that made that building feel like home.”
Cooper reset his baseball cap. “I suppose so.”
Behind his seat, Paul found a roll of paper towels. He unwound a few sheets and worked at cleaning the windshield. Once the wad of paper was fully soaked he tossed it out the busted window.
A crushed pile of corpses straddled the center of the road. The thirteen vehicles before them had torn a path through the army of the dead, leaving only mangled limbs and twisted torsos in their wake.
A few pockets of the horde remained. These were the slow pokes. They were made up of elderly, heavily damaged, burned to a crisp, missing limbs or incredibly obese, infected citizens.
Some of them wandered into the center of the street. They were met with the steel grille guard mounted to the front of the truck. The collisions tossed the destroyed bodies aside.
Paul watched in the mirror as their shredded corpses cartwheeled through the air, skidded to a stop and landing at their final resting place.
He adjusted the mirror to see farther down the street. Behind them chased the rest of the massive horde. Aliens, completely void of their humanity. Monsters, whose sole purpose was to consume. A black plague with no cure in sight. The thought alone was enough to drive a person mad.
“How many people have we lost?” asked Cooper. Paul contemplated as he unwound sheets. He handed them to his driver. Cooper took the paper ball and used it to clean the dash, steering wheel and controls.
“Too many.”
“This place we’re heading, what if it is already occupied?”
With all the chaos tossed Paul’s way, he hadn’t had time to consider this possibility.
Will the people there welcome us with open arms?
Or will they send us packing?
The euphoric rush he experienced after making it off the field was fading faster than he would have expected.
Paul lifted a chunk of skull from the floorboard and tossed it. No amount of cleaning was going to shake the dark sensations.
Fear.
Doubt.
Pain.
All resurfaced in a flash.
Brother Paul appeared calm, collected. He cleaned his half of the cabin. Busy work, only.
I can’t break, not now, not in front of Cooper.
I must remain strong.
Inside, he was a raging storm, with gale force winds threatening to blow apart his psyche.
God saved me.
God must have a plan.
But if all that is true, then why did God take so many loved ones?
Why is He playing these demented games with me?
There were no answers. No comfort. Paul desperately tried to reset his mind back to when he was at peace, but it was too late.
The road lay before them. They were on a holy pilgrimage, north.
Paul grimaced as he removed a large chunk of brain from the dash. He examined its contours.
What kind of sick prank did God have waiting for us?
Chapter 20
Jim rubbed his brow, peeked out the front window, grimaced and said, “Damn it. Nothing ever goes easy, does it?”
Karen reached for his hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Baby, at this point if something went our way, it wouldn’t feel right.”
Troy grabbed an ice-cold beer from the cooler, cracked it open, raised it in the air and grunted, “Here’s to the hard life. May our path be covered in thorns.” He huffed a chuckle before guzzling half the bottle in a single swig.
At first glance the neighborhood appeared to be like any other. A row of ranch style homes lined both sides of the street. At the end was a cul-de-sac. Attached to the turnaround stood a large, one hundred-unit, apartment complex. Yep, just a regular, small town, run of the mill, bullshit street.
Except this little slice of Americana was chock-full of mayhem. Buildings were engulfed in flames. Lengths of black lumber jutted from piles of rubble and ash. Trashed cars coated with crimson goo filled the street. A large moving van had collided with the pole of an overhead powerline. Live wires dangled to the yard below, sporadically sparking as they jumped around. The houses were left dark and foreboding.
Mounds of half eaten bodies littered the grounds. Someone had stacked a massive heap of corpses in a yard and turned it into a bonfire. Charred and smoldering skeletons were all that remained.
Bullet holes pocked a few houses. Signs of a shootout between rival groups were everywhere. Windows busted and doors blasted from their frames. The smell of burning plastic was mixed with the stench of barbequed humans. The foul odor of death hung heavy. A war against the infected had taken place.
Infected 1.
Humans 0.
Free range zombies roamed the land. Searching for victims. Needing their next fix.
Jim snickered to himself.
These things are exactly like drug addicts.
Their disheveled appearance was unnerving. You can’t trust them. No matter what, they never got enough to satisfy their habit, but unlike addicts, these bastards don’t O.D.
The only cure, a lead injection, straight to the dome. Thank goodness their struggles were coming to an end, because Dr. Jim Blackmore and his team were all board-certified, addiction medicine specialists.
Leon tapped the brakes and the rig screeched to a halt. The noise grabbed the bastards’ attention. Zombies sprinted from every corner of the devastated neighborhood, making a beeline straight toward the yellow, Meals on Wheels.
Jim hobbled to his feet, limped a few steps forward and asked, “Which house is yours?”
Desiree pointed. “The gray one, there.”
The front door and windows were still intact.
“Okay.” Jim plotted the next move. “Leon, you think you can get this thing turned around in that cul-de-sac?”
Leon scanned the area and came back with a, “Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good, let’s take it slow.” Jim turned to get his gun and found the others were already ahead of him. “You guys know what to do.”
Shawna stood in the aisle and said, “I can help.”
She cringed on the inside.
That sounded too desperate.
Jim faced her. “Thanks, but we’ve got it.”
Before she could stop herself, Shawna pointed to a gun laying on a seat a few rows away and blurted. “That’s my rifle. I know how to use it and I can help make this go faster.”
Jim weighed the choice. He glanced at Karen. She shook her head and Jim agreed.
Shawna swore she spotted something behind the couple’s eyes.
Jim cleared his throat, “We know you want to help and I’m thankful for the work you did on my shoulder, but...”
Shawna mustered a compliant smile and said, “I understand,” then took a seat.
“I tell you what, after you help us find the meds,” she turned to him as Jim continued. “Leon will hotwire the biggest rig w
e can find, and you’ll be on your way.” Jim awkwardly lifted his gun. Pain stretched across his mug. “All right?”
Shawna noticed it again, a tiny little flicker, but she was convinced she saw it.
He’s lying.
She hid her contempt and said, “Yeah, that sounds fine.”
Paranoia wiggled through her brain and planted a seed of doubt.
Even if I help, they’ll think of some other reason they can’t let me go.
They don’t want me to lead Brother Paul back to them.
And if they do manage to keep their word they’ll probably stick me with a Geo Metro, and a slingshot.
The bus and its supplies, belong to my church. She fumed. Shawna spent this last stretch of the bus ride watching Leon operate the rig and was convinced she could manage the drive home.
Her resolve hardened.
If I get the chance, I’m going to take it.
Desiree climbed to her feet. “I know which end is the dangerous one, if you want my help.”
Jim nodded at her, “Sara, you got a loaded one she can use?”
“Yep,” Sara handed Desiree a rifle.
She examined the weapon. “This is pretty farting high-tech compared to what I’ve used in the past.” Her hands found the correct positions as she tugged the gun to her shoulder. “This should be therapeutic.”
“What’s that?” asked Sara.
Desiree closed a single eyelid as she sighted a zombie front runner with blazing speed. “You know all that hippy-dippy bullshit about healing, when someone’s taken your power and you want it back? This disease has stolen the world from us and they can’t have it.”
Sara looped her thumbs through the gun harness strapped to her shoulders. “You’re right, everyone I put down makes me feel a tiny bit better.”
Desiree flashed a devious grin. “We’re exercising demons. Taking care of business. Slinging hot lead. Putting down fools. Capping asses. All in the name of healing.” She gave her comrade a wink.
Karen reached over the backrest and ran her hand through each of her girl’s hair. “I need you two to stay down, okay?”
“Is the Scary Man here?” asked Valerie.
Karen’s features scrunched. “Who?”
“The Scary Man.” Valerie pointed at her Mother’s face. “He did that and then he, uhm, grabbed me hard and squeezed Robin. And he tried to hurt us, uhm, him.”
Karen’s jaw tensed. Eric was dead. No way in hell he could hurt anyone again, but his evil presence still cast a haunting shadow. The ‘Scary Man’ could terrify her children for years to come. How do you convince a child that the boogyman is dead?
Karen put on her serious Mom voice. “That man is gone.”
“Where did he go?”
Karen spent most of her day blocking the events from earlier. “He was killed for being bad and now he is dead. He can’t hurt you, ever again.”
Valerie contemplated. “What if another bad man comes to the house?”
Karen leaned forward. “I won’t let anyone bad into our house. I promise.”
Jim entered the row next to his wife and said, “Plus, I’m here and we have Uncle Troy.” He nodded across the aisle. “We also have Sara and Leon, all here to protect you, okay?”
“Okay,” Valerie managed a smile.
“Kay!” Shouted Robin.
“Now you two, stay down and cover your ears.” Karen released the bolt on her rifle.
Karen and Jim took one side. Sara, Troy, and Desiree grabbed the other.
Leon eased the rig forward and kept it at a steady five miles an hour.
“How’s this?” asked Leon.
“Perfect.” Jim groaned, as he lifted his rifle with one arm and set the barrel on the window frame. With a slight accent he said, “At my signal, unleash hell.”
Light laughter trickled through the bus.
“Nice. Very current Gladiator reference.” Karen gave Jim a loving tap on the arm.
Leon couldn’t believe it.
I did a spot-on Irish impression and I get zilch.
Jim does a half assed Russell Crowe and everyone loves it.
Plus, he wants to let Shawna go! Goddamn him!
He took a deep breath, released his frustration and developed his own plan.
Maybe, I won’t be able to get a car going for her and she’ll have to stay.
For at least a few nights.
Leon glanced at his mirror, hoping to steal a quick view of the new girl. He was absolutely shocked to find Shawna staring back at him.
She’s smiling.
They locked eyes. Her beauty pulverized him.
Oh. My. God.
It’s happening.
Ease into the smile, big boy.
Don’t spook her.
Gradually he maneuvered his lips into a natural grin.
Only seconds passed, but Leon’s entire future unfolded as if he was flipping through a photo album. Leon and Shawna on their first date. Snuggling under the covers, cigarettes hung from the corners of their mouths. Leon and Shawna getting married. Leon holding Shawna’s baby bump. Leon and Shawna holding one kid each. Yay, twins. Leon and Shawna old and gray, surrounded by ten grandchildren. Two fresh tombstones with their names etched into the granite. The inscription carved under their names read, “They died happily, on the same day.”
With a coy smile, Shawna turned away.
Leon’s heart raced. All hopes and dreams seemed possible. He could wrestle bears, conquer mountains, swim oceans or rocket to the moon. With her by his side, Leon was going to be ten times the man. The moment was pure magic.
With Leon’s free hand he slowly and nonchalantly readjusted his rock-hard boner.
I’ve got to let this troublemaker spurt. Once he got his junk in a comfortable position he tapped the box of condoms in his pocket.
I’m so glad I grabbed these.
A thought came to him.
She might be old school Catholic.
If that’s true… Oh baby. I won’t need these rubbers.
He wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but his dick got even harder.
Leon shook off the pornographic daydream. Getting the big rig through the tight set of obstacles was going to take all his concentration. He weaved past a few totaled vehicles and entered the street. The zombies were now in range and the death dealers unloaded their arsenal.
The chaotic noise called every zombie in a ten-block radius. Swarms of them poured through the side yards of each home.
Heads popped.
Bodies dropped.
Half way down the street they reloaded.
“Hey, buddy. I need help.” Jim passed his rifle to Troy who exchanged the magazine. “This is going to be a rough month until this shoulder heals.”
“Don’t ask me to wipe anything and we’ll be good.” Troy passed the loaded rifle to his brother-in-law.
“I thought we were close?” Jim jested.
Karen interjected with the dry humor Jim fell in love with. “We’re not that close.”
The lapse in their shooting gave the monsters a chance to reach the rig. The zombies pawed at the sides of the bus. Karen spied a grotesque creature resembling the character Liam Neeson played in Darkman. Three quarters of its face was gone. Lips, one ear and one brow, all missing. Its one good eye locked onto Karen and followed her every move. Its hands tapped at her window as it jogged next to the bus. A few fingers were absent. Raw stumps. Exposed bones. Bare and twitching ligaments. A full-on physiology lesson. She finished loading a fresh mag and said, “Leon, speed up, but when you make the turn, pause.”
Leon sped to the end of the block, leaving the zombies in the dust. He weaved through the last few busted vehicles, made it to the turnaround, pivoted the bus and came to a stop. The street was hazy from gunfire. Smoke swirled around the mass of zombies as they busted through the fog. Five barrels poked from the war rig. The creatures raced headlong into the hail of lead. Once every gun clicked empty, the dead army was reduced
to a few dozen soldiers.
Leon released the brakes, cranked the wheel and cruised straight at the remaining infected. The cowcatcher mounted to the front of the war rig savagely obliterated them.
Desiree lowered her rifle, lifted a cigarette to her lips and fired up her lighter. “Now that’s some good therapy.”
Leon slowed the bus, made a sharp turn and drove the rig onto the sidewalk. He destroyed a recently planted bed of flowers, plowed through a blood stained white picket fence, crushed a concrete bird bath, mangled a village of garden gnomes and wrecked a decorative bench. He lined the door of the bus directly across from Desiree’s front steps and came to a full stop. He was so close to the building the top of the rig scraped the gutters on the house.
“Door to door service,” Leon pressed the emergency brake and turned the key. He beheld the mayhem left in the street. “If we had a safe place to refuel and an endless supply of ammo, we could clear this county in a few weeks.”
Troy and Sara’s rifles popped, as they finished the stragglers that were late to the party.
Sara squeezed her trigger one last time and ended a run of the mill, beer bellied dad. The street went still. No sound except the zap of electricity from the fallen powerline. A thick fog of gunsmoke made it impossible to see across the street. The area oozed a haunted vibe as the gray cloud fell to the asphalt. Jim and his people nearly tripled the corpse count on this block.
Desiree gathered her belongings. She squinted and peered through the main window to get a better view inside of her home. “I can’t see a damn thing.” She tugged a set of keys from her pocket. “Lord, give me the strength to face that old man’s dirty diaper.”
Jim raised his hand. “Wait everyone, please. Let’s be silent for a few more minutes and make sure there aren’t any surprises heading this way.” Jim inched closer to a window and listened to the neighborhood.
They did as he asked and remained still.
In this minute of calm, Jim soaked in his surroundings. The street was well beyond disaster. In fact, there wasn’t a harsh enough term to label this mess.