by Brown, TW
“Chad!” Brett Simmons burst through the gymnasium doors from outside where Kimberly’s rally seemed to be growing spirited. “We’ve got a problem!”
“So handle it yourselves,” Donna snapped. “If you weren’t listening, we’re leaving. Chad doesn’t want to be in charge of anything to—”
“We’ve got a breech!” Brett cut her off. “At least a couple dozen are inside the fence!”
“Daddy?” Ronni turned to Chad with eyes wide with fear.
“Don’t worry, sweetie.” Risking the possible denial, he stepped up and wrapped his arms around his daughter. He noticed her stiffen slightly, but at least she didn’t push him away. “You and your mom gather up only the essentials, and don’t forget a few bottles of water. Put those in my bag. Be ready when I get back.”
A scream from outside caused everybody to turn.
“Hurry!” Chad gave his daughter one last squeeze and ran for the door.
***
Cary switched off the radio. He’d been listening to the chatter from what sure sounded like an organized group. They’d rolled into a town, Heath, this morning. He’d perked up when he heard the mention of someplace that he could point to on a map. He’d hoped that this group would welcome him.
Then he’d listened to their raid on the poor survivors that had suffered the misfortune of meeting this band of barbarians. Orders like “Torch the building and smoke ‘em out!” and “Just grab the women, none of those men are worth the waste of food.” It got a bit interesting when somebody had apparently lobbed a grenade into one of their trucks.
He only wished that those folks had more firepower. While there had certainly been some casualties suffered by the raiders, the outcome had been disastrous for the poor people of Heath. Cary considered his choices for a while. Eventually his curiosity won out over his common sense.
Unfortunately, his gas gauge informed him that there were more pressing matters. He pulled up beside a pair of vehicles that looked to have been forcibly moved off the road. There were a handful of undead trundling in his direction. Nothing too worrisome. He had to remind himself that it was entirely possible that he’d gotten lucky. There was no reason to tempt fate and allow himself to be bitten again. Not to mention the whole pain factor.
He went to work siphoning gas. He’d actually gotten quite proficient at that the past couple days. He really loved his Highway Patrol car. There was simply no reason to abandon it if he wasn’t pressed for time. Eventually he was on the move once more. A sign read: Heath 4 mi. State Route 79 was surprisingly clear. An empty RV-Park to the right caught his eye as he passed. There’d been a big fire very recently. One of the abandoned vehicle husks still smoked.
5
Geeks, Logic, and Lunch
Heather stood in front of the full-length mirror swapping out dresses that she would hold up to herself one after another. They were a little long for her taste, but she was tired of all the long sleeves, leather gloves, boots, and other assorted apparel that Kevin insisted they wear anytime they stepped outside. Of course, he had a really good reason. But for just one evening, she wanted to feel like a girl again. Deciding on blue, she hurried back downstairs.
All day, she’d kept the two men out of the kitchen. She was preparing dinner. And while the menu was limited, she’d found some things that allowed for a touch of creativity. The big surprise was inside the woodstove, sitting on a metal rack. She looked out towards the barn a few times and caught them standing beside the beat up old truck, sniffing the air.
It’d been a long night last night. Those terrible men hadn’t left until after dark. The smell of burning kept drifting through every once in a while. Fortunately, the wind was blowing the smoke—and spreading fire—away from their location. Still, that terrible smell would occasionally overwhelm the yummy aroma that was drifting out the open kitchen window.
Checking the table for probably the tenth time, Heather made it a point not to look down at the dark stain on the floor. She hadn’t actually seen what had been there, but Kevin and Mike had both been bothered. They hadn’t let her near the area until they’d covered everything with blankets. And when they’d cleaned the area, they’d made her stay out. Like she hadn’t seen tons of bad stuff already. After making minute adjustments in the positioning of the silverware that not even she could detect, everything was still straight and evenly spaced.
Every once in a while her arm would brush the .22 caliber six-shooter on her hip. It was weird carrying a gun. It was weirder sleeping with one. This morning, she’d been chewed out a little. Kevin caught her trying to twirl the pistol on her finger like in the old cowboy movies. Truthfully, the only cowboy movie she’d ever seen was Tombstone. The guy playing Doc Holliday was cute. She’d seen the actor later and he wasn’t so cute anymore. He looked…squishy.
Ewwwww.
Looking out the window, she saw Kevin and Mike lifting a big, white cylinder that reminded her of a vitamin capsule for a giant. They had some contraption with poles, chains, and straps to lift the thing. Mike had his shirt off. He didn’t look like his body had ever been exposed to sunlight. It was almost whiter than the giant vitamin. He had a bit of a sag in his belly even though he was tall and skinny.
Then she looked at Kevin. He was almost exactly like Mike in so many ways. Only, his body was wiry and reminded her of a volleyball player she’d had a poster of in her room. It was clear that he was comfortable working with his hands as well as his brain. His dark-blonde hair showed traces of highlights. That was a little weird. And he was so awkward when he spoke to her. Even when he’d scolded her today about “treating her gun like a toy” it had taken everything he had to look her in the eyes. She could tell. He kept looking away, usually at the ground.
She sighed just a little. Maybe tonight Mike would drink something a little stronger than a rum and Coke. Maybe he’d go to sleep early. And maybe…just maybe…she would make her move.
***
“I’m telling you that you need to be careful,” Mike said as he began operating the hand crank, lowering the cylinder of ammonium nitrate into the bed of the pick-up truck.
“And I’m telling you that she’s just a kid,” Kevin countered. “She’s been through a rough deal and is just clinging to the guys who rescued her.”
“Guy,” Mike corrected.
“Really?” Kevin began unfastening the straps around the big cylinder. “We’re gonna do this?”
“Dude!” Mike stood and wiped the back of his arm across his forehead. “How do you not notice that she is curled up against you every morning when you wake up?”
“She has nightmares.” Kevin hopped out of the truck and headed into the barn with Mike on his heels. “Maybe she sleeps on her left side.”
“Then switch tonight and I’ll prove it.”
“Fine,” Kevin shrugged. “If it will shut you up I’ll do it. But as of tomorrow, I don’t want to hear another word about this nonsense.”
“I don’t believe how you cannot see it,” Mike mumbled.
“She’s. A. Kid.”
“Who happens to be extremely hot!” Mike’s voice cracked a little on the last word. “The exact type of girl who wouldn’t even acknowledge our existence in high school.”
“Two very important things in that statement.” Kevin held up his left hand and raised his index finger. “One…girl. A girl is not a woman. She is a child.”
“Dude—” Mike shook his head.
“Two,” Kevin held up the second finger, interrupting Mike, “high school. How long ago was that? A decade?”
“And you think any of that matters now?” Mike laughed.
“How did you not end up face to face with Chris Hansen?”
“This better not be about that Bergman broad,” Mike growled as he hoisted a pair of five-gallon gas cans. He was almost to the truck when he realized that Kevin hadn’t said anything. He set the heavy plastic containers down and turned. “Ruth?”
“Did you know she grabbed condoms at that stop whe
n you and Darrin got so pissed?”
“So?”
“Why would she need condoms, Mike?”
“Were they on top?” Mike asked, blown away that his friend had been suckered so obviously.
Kevin shifted his weight from one foot to another. “What if they were? What’s the big deal?”
“Right,” Mike scoffed. “Because anybody who’s ever bought condoms always puts them on top…”
“Mike—”
“Kevin,” it was Mike’s turn to interrupt, “how many top buttons were undone by girls who needed a little math homework? How many little flashes of bra or panty had you explaining a rough physics assignment or step-by-stepping a calculus problem?”
Kevin shrugged.
“And how many times did you receive access to those hallowed grounds? How many times did you actually get to touch the mommy-parts? Not just in high school, pal.” Mike walked up to his friend. He felt sorry for the guy. He really had delusional problems. The chick he wanted had zero interest; meanwhile, the hot little schoolgirl that he viewed through “civilized” eyes was drenching her panties over him and he really didn’t see any of it. “What about college? Did it get any better there?”
“Well I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking,” Kevin snapped.
“How many?” Mike asked.
“I don’t see—”
“How many?” Mike prodded.
Kevin mumbled something unintelligible, his eyes dropping to the ground.
“What?” Mike held a hand to one ear. “I didn’t catch that.”
“Three.” Kevin’s eyes came up, hot with anger. “And what about you, smart guy?”
“Rented or regular?” Mike asked.
“What?”
“Rented or regular,” Mike repeated. “Do I count hookers?”
“You really are disgusting.” Kevin grabbed his own gas containers and shouldered past Mike to the truck. Mike fell in on his heels.
“One way or the other, you pay for it,” Mike said.
“That’s such a lame excuse.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Well you’re not gonna say anything that will convince me that I should direct my interests towards a sixteen-year-old girl.” Kevin began repositioning some of the items in the back of the pick-up truck. Mike handed him his gas containers.
“What if she was eighteen?” Mike asked.
“That’s different,” Kevin said as he hopped out of the truck and headed back to the barn.
“You know, back in the olden days, with the pioneers and settlers, Heather’d have two kids by now and—”
“We aren’t in the olden days. And we aren’t having this conversation anymore.”
“Puritan,” Mike muttered as he picked up the other end of the wooden crate Kevin had already hoisted one end of.
They carried it outside and set it back down. Kevin began putting the contents in the back with all the other components.
“I worry about you,” Mike laughed as he held up a box with a bunch of triangle-shaped, saw-toothed blades, each about the size of the palm of his hand. “That the knowledge to make something like this was floating around in your head is just a bit disturbing.”
“Everybody has their hobbies,” Kevin smiled.
“Smell that?” Mike froze.
“What?” Kevin sniffed the air.
“I can’t place it,” Mike breathed in deep through his nose, “but it’s something sweet.”
They finished transferring everything from the big box into the truck. They hauled out two more, and only had to stop once for a couple of shamblers that wandered across the field in search of warm flesh. Kevin pulled a ratty burlap tarp over the jumble and secured it in place.
“How sure are you that this is gonna work?” Mike asked as they walked back to the house.
“Eighty percent,” Kevin said with a glance back at the truck.
“Better than a lottery ticket.”
The two walked up onto the back porch. The door flew open and Heather held her hands out.
“Go around front!” She stood in the doorway, barring entrance.
The two glanced at one another. A wave of smells rolled out causing a rather Pavlovian response. They glanced down at the tiny figure planted before them. Her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. She wore an apron over a blue dress that hung a bit loosely, but still flattered. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at them.
“Around front and up the stairs.” Heather pointed. “There is a washtub for each of you, and I hung a clean set of clothes also.”
Mike raised an eyebrow at the girl, “What’s wrong with what we have on?”
“Besides being gross? Smelly? Not washed in how many days?” Heather waved a hand in front of her face for emphasis. “And that reminds me, when is the last time you guys washed any of your clothes? You both need some new stuff. Especially underwear.”
“Shopping hasn’t been too high on the list,” Mike said with a scowl. “What, with zombies trying to eat us, and assholes raiding us, stealing our stuff.”
“Go wash.” Heather pointed again, turned and walked back into the house, letting the screen door close behind her.
Kevin and Mike sulked like a couple of scolded children down the stairs and around the side of the house. The smells from the kitchen had them both subconsciously quickening their step. They reached the front porch and Mike stopped so suddenly that Kevin collided with his back.
“You hear that?” Mike turned. Kevin had already stepped back and was shielding his eyes with his hands.
Both scanned slowly for the source of the low rumble that waxed and waned with no specific rhythm. The various pillars of black smoke that were drifting away from them on the wind gave no clues.
“Shaw?” Mike whispered as Kevin came up to stand beside him on the porch.
“I don’t know,” Kevin said, nervously caressing the handle of the pistol holstered at his side.
The front door flew open, causing both men to jump. Kevin had his pistol in his hand and the safety off in a flash.
“You guys need to—” Heather’s voice stuck in her throat as she found herself staring into the barrel of Kevin’s Colt .45 semi-automatic.
“Grab the rifles,” Mike hissed, herding her back into the house. She turned and bolted up the stairs.
Kevin brought up the rear. Looking downhill, the edge of town was maybe a quarter of a mile from their doorstep. He thought he caught sight of a vehicle prowling through a smoky intersection. It was too difficult to tell. Closing the door, he climbed the stairs two at a time. Mike and Heather were each at a window, peeking outside. Both had a scoped rifle in hand.
“I thought I saw a police car,” Heather whispered.
“Me, too,” Mike agreed.
Kevin joined Mike and peered out as well. From up here, it was easier to see the half-dozen fires individually. From downstairs, the smoke plumes all seemed to blend in. Actually, it didn’t look quite as bad as he’d thought it might.
“Over there!” Heather exclaimed. “Next to the Frank’s Fast Fill-up.”
Kevin scanned and quickly located the large maroon and white sign. It was a police cruiser! Whoever was driving knew what they were doing. He—or she—would go a couple blocks, then turn and hook back. The car would end up behind the small mob it attracted. The zombies would turn and he’d spin around again and leave them behind.
“He’s looking for something,” Kevin said jogging to the bedroom grabbing his binoculars. As he stepped out and into the hallway, he bumped into Heather.
“Can I go back to the kitchen?” she asked.
“Yep.” He put a hand on her shoulder and was suddenly hearing the entire conversation he’d had with Mike zoom through his head. He’d dropped it…probably a little too quickly judging by the look that crossed Heather’s face. “Mike and I will take turns watchin’ whoever this may be while the other cleans up.”
“Oh yay!” Heather clap
ped her hands and threw her arms around his neck, then hurried down the stairs.
“She’s totally not interested,” Mike’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Shut up!” Kevin came back to the window. He brought the binoculars up and quickly found the cruiser.
“Well?” Mike elbowed him in the ribs.
“There are a couple of bantha down there, but I don’t see…wait a minute,” Kevin recited the line from memory.
“C’mon, man,” Mike was actually whining.
“He’s stopping at some sort of fenced in, junkyard lookin’ place,” Kevin reported. “I think he’s getting out. Yes, he’s—”
Kevin dropped the binoculars and staggered back. Mike immediately searched for the bullet hole. His friend had just reacted like he’d taken a round to the chest.
“Kev?” He grabbed the taller man’s shoulders and spun him around so they were facing each other.
“Impossible,” Kevin whispered. His eyes were vacant and glassy. If it weren’t for the fact that he was also panting just a bit, Mike would’ve passed him off as one of the walking dead.
“What?” Mike shook him. Kevin’s mouth worked, but nothing came out of it. Finally, he lifted the binoculars over and off Kevin’s neck by the leather strap.
He went to the window and searched for the cruiser. He found it, but whoever was driving had ducked through a hole in the fence. Mike had found him just as he vanished behind a stack of wooden pallets.
“C’mon, you,” Mike growled.
Just as the person stepped back into view, Mike heard the front door open and shut downstairs. The driver turned. He was too far away to have actually heard anything. In fact, he probably couldn’t even see the bottom floor of the house from there. It didn’t matter. Mike saw the face. Just like Kevin, he dropped the binoculars.
“Impossible,” Mike whispered in the same tone Kevin used just a moment ago.
***
Kevin jogged down the grassy slope to the road. Cutting across a few open lots, he made a beeline for where he’d seen the cruiser park. He wasn’t stupid, he’d grabbed one of those sturdy eighteen-inch cornstalk knives. Plus, he still had his Colt in case of emergency.