by Brown, TW
Stepping out onto the porch, he progressed down the front of the house, effectively putting the crudely fashioned rail between him and the approaching undead. The rail was shabby looking, but he gave it a little shake with his hand and was not surprised to discover that it was very sturdy. The people living in this village were obviously poor, but they were wonderful craftsmen.
The first zombie made it up to the rail and swiped at Caleb with both hands. Its momentum took it over the rail where it landed in a heap. It was nothing for the boy to step in and drive his sharpened walking stick into the thing’s head.
He didn’t wait for the second one to fall over and brought his weapon up to bear. He was about to drive it through the thing’s grey-green face when he heard a scream from close by. That moment of hesitation caused him to falter and his thrust went into the creature’s throat.
A second cry, this one even more frantic than the first, and followed by words that he could not understand, made him hurry. He let his pack slip down his arm to the ground and he drew the long blade from his side. Stepping around the rail and into the narrow road, he gave a sidearm swing that buried his blade in the side of the zombie’s head. It toppled, bringing the walking stick with it. He would grab it when he returned, Caleb decided as he jogged to towards the source of the noise.
He drew up short, not willing to risk too much to satisfy his curiosity. What he saw made him pause. The source of the screams was a young woman. She had climbed up on top of a small fishing boat that was up on blocks for some sort of work.
On the ground, besides the dozen zombies that had gathered and were all straining to reach up for the frightened woman, were two large baskets. One of them was on its side, its contents spilled on the dirt.
Fish. Lots of fish. Some were even flapping about, completely ignored by the zombies.
The woman saw Caleb and began to wave her arms frantically. She started speaking, but her words made no sense. He was pretty sure that she was asking for help.
Caleb’s eyes went to the baskets and he tried to judge whether he could dart in, grab them, and be off without getting set upon by the small cluster of zombies that were currently very focused on the woman.
The woman seemed to be reading his thoughts. She began pleading in earnest and shaking her head. He studied the woman for another moment.
She certainly seemed well fed. That meant that she had been taking pretty decent care of herself judging by the slim pickings he had managed to come up with while scouring the village. Plus, there was that basket of fish. Obviously she had some skills that would be useful. If he brought her back to Aaheru, perhaps the man would be pleased…if he ever woke up. It had been three days since he had chopped of the man’s arm.
Just this morning, when he had checked on this man who had claimed the title of pharaoh, the fever seemed to be gone. Caleb was struggling with his choice to care for the man. Obviously he was no god, and weren’t the ancient pharaohs supposed to be manifestations of the gods?
This man had taken them from their walled place of refuge and travelled across the desert to Alexandria. From there he had put them boats and sent them on a journey that only he seemed to want to undertake if what he had heard among the others when Aaheru was absent—usually behind the closed doors of the place where the women were kept—could be believed.
When the ship had crashed, Caleb had to fight his way up from where he had been working in the engine room. He had expected to find more of his people, but what he found time and again were only what used to be his friends and fellow Egyptians.
The woman on the small wooden boat yelled again. Caleb looked up with curiosity. She was no longer screaming with fear or concern; now she sounded angry. Her eyes were on him and there was a scowl on her face. She pointed to him and then to the monsters gathered around below her. She mimed hitting them in the head.
Well, Caleb thought as he gauged where to attack, if nothing else, she was certainly more pleasant to look at than Aaheru. Tapping his blade on a large boulder that jutted up from the ground, Caleb began to draw some of the closer zombies to him. Darting in and out, he had taken down four by the time the woman leapt from her perch and joined in. Together, they actually made short work of those that remained.
Once it was done, Caleb helped her gather her fish into her basket. She started towards a grove in the opposite direction of the castle. Caleb tugged on her arm and pointed to the castle. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. She glanced back towards the grove and then pointed.
Why would she want to go that way? Caleb thought. He did not see much that looked like it would provide protection from the walking dead. And while his castle had some open areas, he had managed to find a single room that had no windows and only one door. It also had a fireplace big enough for him to stand in if he wanted. They had been plenty warm the past few nights.
Caleb pointed again to the castle. The woman seemed to consider it for a moment. Finally she held up one finger. And then pointed back towards the direction she had initially started. She pointed, held up one finger and then pointed to the castle. Of course she was also talking the entire time, but none of that made any sense to Caleb. All he could do was guess that she wanted him to see her place first, and then they would go to the castle. That seemed fair enough.
Caleb decided that Aaheru could wait a little longer. He shrugged and nodded his head. After picking up one of the baskets—which seemed extraordinarily heavy to him—if she had been carrying both, then he was certainly impressed—he filed in beside the woman.
After passing through a large grove of trees, they came to a clearing. It was what he saw on the other side that made his jaw drop. He glanced up at the woman. She nodded and smiled. Perhaps the castle was not the best choice after all, he thought as he followed the woman across the open and level field.
***
“The house is at the top of that hill,” Juan whispered and pointed.
The two had beached the boat and had to immediately deal with a few roaming deaders that came out from the partially burned down lumber yard. Each of them had a heavy crossbow, an axe, a machete, and then an assortment of various small knives that dangled from their belt.
They had decided to at least swing by and check on Frank and Donna before going to the hospital. Juan had not been too difficult to convince. He knew there were supplies that could be obtained at that community. He was not as sure about making a run on a hospital with just the two of them.
“You went up that?” April pointed to the steep hill just across the railroad tracks from where they were crouched in the bushes.
“It was a bitch going up,” Juan sighed in remembrance, “but the alternative would be to head up that access road and then walk through the neighborhood.”
“I thought you jacked a truck or something.”
“I did…it’s gone.”
That was another thing that had him a bit on edge. Who exactly had taken the truck that he had used to bring all the supplies from that gated community? If it was Frank and Donna, that would be one thing. Only he didn’t see that as likely. Why would they come all the way down here for that truck? There were plenty of other vehicles around the community.
“Well, big guy, as they say…after you. Age before beauty.” April smiled and gave Juan a slight nudge.
“They also say ladies first,” Juan reminded.
With that, he turned, scanned the area and then took off across the open ground. He would be completely exposed for almost two hundred yards. There was no way around it. The first time, he hadn’t even really given it any thought. However, with the fact that the truck was gone, plus the fact that he had certainly not left Frank and Donna on friendly terms, his apprehension was considerable.
Halfway across, he heard something clang off to his left. That single sound was followed by a series of rapid, heavy metallic clicks. His head turned and he skidded to a halt. A huge roll-up door on one of the warehouses on the edge of the lumber yard was ro
lling up.
He shot a glance back the way he’d come. April had done as they agreed; she had stayed put. The plan was for him to cross and then for her to follow. His eyes came back to the gaping black rectangle that was the entrance to the warehouse. From deep within, a twin set of lights came on—obviously headlights. The low rumble of an engine sounded…seconds later, the truck he’d abandoned came rolling out.
Juan looked around. For just a moment, he considered making a run for it. The only problem was that he was smack dab in the middle of a huge open space. He had always laughed when people tried to outrun a vehicle in the movies or on television. The only person he gave any chance to would have been that Olympic runner, Usain Bolt. And he would only last for about a hundred yards or so. If there was somebody on the opposite end of the sprinter’s scale, Juan was pretty sure that it was him. He hated running. He did it out of necessity. Running here and now would do nothing but make him tired. If he stood his ground, then maybe he would have a fighting chance if these people got out of the truck.
The big vehicle rolled forward and closed half the distance between them before stopping. After a rev of the engine, the driver shut it off. It was still too far away for Juan to get a good look at the driver. To make matters worse, the sun had chosen this moment to come out and was currently in his eyes.
The passenger door opened and somebody climbed out. They were obviously being cautious and the person ducked down and stuck his head back in the cab for a moment before coming back out.
“You that guy from the island?” the person called.
Juan considered the possibilities. For one, there was certainly more than one island in the Willamette River. Still, he and his people had left a few people that they met along the way who had declined to join them at the time. They had always been cognizant of other groups of survivors in and around the area. They had gone to some length not to make enemies.
“If you mean Sauvie, then yeah,” Juan finally answered. He decided that if they were in fact considering some sort of raid on his group, they would find it a much tougher nut to crack than most. “And who are you?”
“It’s me…Kip Jones,” the voice called back.
Juan could tell that the person was implying that they knew each other. The thing was, Juan was terrible at names. If this was some guy he knew from jail or the streets, then this meeting could still go either way.
“It’s one of the kids!” April called.
Juan’s head spun just a bit faster than his body. Sure enough, April was walking up just as casual as you please. She didn’t even have a weapon drawn.
“One of those kids you brought back…with Frank. Probably one of the boys who went looking for Donna,” April said.
“We saw you just as you were pulling away,” Kip said with obvious relief in his voice. “And, man, am I glad you came back.”
“So what were you doing in that warehouse?” Juan asked.
“Hiding.” Kip had a look on his face like he could not actually believe that was a question. “We tried to find Donna, but didn’t have any luck.”
Juan felt his stomach clench a bit. He glanced at April who shrugged and nodded like she could read his mind. He knew she really couldn’t, but he took that as the go ahead to ask the question swirling around in his brain pan.
“Did you go up and check at her house?”
Kip nodded, and then the driver side door opened and another young man stepped out. He was a bit on the heavy side which Juan found amusing considering the overall lack of food it was likely that these two had managed to find in that area. When he stood beside Kip, he was almost a head taller, which Juan guessed put him at about just over six feet tall. His skin was a rich, dark hue, but he was not African-American. Juan wasn’t exactly sure what his origin might be…at least until he spoke.
“The corpses have the whole place overrun. Her house looks like it got hit pretty hard. A lot of those things are milling about in her yard and can be seen in the windows. We thought we heard something, but there was no way to get close,” the second boy said with a thick Middle Eastern accent.
Juan had no idea which of those countries the kid might come from, but he had seen enough movies to at least recognize that it was certainly from that general area where all the wars happened. He considered what they told him and shot another look at April. This time she just stared back with a blank expression. That meant it was all up to him. He really would like to clean that place out. There was so much there that it was tough to pass up on. And maybe he didn’t need to hit the hospital after all.
What the hell, he thought, it can’t hurt to look, right?
***
“So do we just leave him?” Chad asked.
After seeing Brett seemingly taken prisoner, the three of them had made for the foothills and the small town of La Grange. The going was a bit tougher than they had anticipated. A lot of the road was either covered with dirt and sand or just plain washed away.
When they began to notice a few buildings spread out over the area, they slowed and started trying to seek shelter from the storm that was now close enough that they could smell the electric tang of ozone in the air.
At the top of a small hill that appeared to offer a good view of the surrounding area sat an old white church. After ensuring that it was empty and not holding any surprises, they ducked inside. It proved to be just in time. The rain came so hard that they had to almost shout to be heard even though they sat huddled together.
“I think he got himself in over his head,” Scott said. “He started acting all strange when we made this choice. It was like he suddenly felt he was running things.”
“I admit he was acting weird,” Chad agreed. “But he was still one of us. He didn’t just stop. We have been through a lot together. Too much to just abandon him.”
“I think he just wanted you guys to see that he could do stuff, too,” Ronni said.
Scott and Chad exchanged glances. After some raised eyebrows and shrugs, Chad turned to his daughter. “What do you mean?”
“Every time something happened, it was one of you two making the decision for everybody. Back at the camp, you were the one who had us all leave after the soldiers abandoned it. It was you two who took us to Yosemite and then when everything bad started there, Scott was the one who took charge of getting you free, and then you two decided that we should leave that place. Brett just always went where you told him.”
Chad scratched his head. That might account for some of it, but had he really just been ordering Brett around this whole time? They had been friends for years…much longer than he knew Scott. But when he replayed things in his mind, it did always seem to be him and Scott making the moves.
“That still doesn’t give him the right to act like a dick,” Scott grumbled.
“Maybe not,” Chad said. “But we are still a group. We are all each other have. I say we have to at least try and figure out a way to see if we can get him out of there.”
They sat in silence for a few moments as a particularly loud crack of thunder shook their tiny refuge, sending dust sprinkling down from the rafters. Another bright flash that seemed to come from right outside lit up the interior of the church, quickly followed by an explosive boom that caused one of the few remaining windows to crack and then fall in a cascade of glass.
Ronni let out a little shriek, and even Chad and Scott jumped. The storm was in full fury now as the rain sounded like it might be able to hammer its way through the roof. Outside, the water was falling in big droplets that struck the ground so hard that they created a mist that rose about two feet.
“We got in just in time,” Chad said, most of his statement cut off by still another peal of thunder that reverberated through the open church.
Wind and rain poured in through the open windows—even the ones facing away from the storm, such was its wrath. A gust of wind pressurized the building in an instant and blew the front door open. Chad jumped up and rushed to close it. He had to s
truggle against the wind, and just as he pulled it shut, he caught a glimpse of a few dark figures moving their direction. He hurried back to Scott and Ronni, his weapon drawn along the way letting them know trouble was coming.
“Spread out,” Chad yelled over the storm. “We have this altar and the railing here to help give a buffer. Draw them in and see if we can stack the bodies to give us even more protection.”
They set up, Chad on one side, Scott on one side, and Ronni behind the altar. The door shook in its frame. Of course, with the storm, it was impossible to tell what the source could be.
When the doors flew open, they all prepared themselves for the fight; each subconsciously gripping and re-gripping the handle of their weapon. A handful of dark-cloaked figures stumbled in and sort of poured around the entrance.
One of the figures rose up and tossed back the hood of its cloak. All three expected to see another of the zombies. None of their minds had managed to catch up enough yet to see the discrepancy in a zombie throwing back a hood. That is why all three staggered back when the zombie spoke.
“You must be Chad.”
***
“So what is the deal with the mask?” Vix asked.
The figure standing over her cocked his head to the side like he was confused. He seemed to shake himself out of it and thrust his weapon forward once again.
“I said for you to get your hands up,” the man growled.
“Listen, I am sure that you might be able to fool some folks,” she glanced over at Gemma who had her hands thrust to the sky, “but I had a nephew who had the same toy. Nice touch painting it, though. It hides the bright orange tip. But unless you plan to kill me by annoying me with the hideous noise that thing makes…”
Vix climbed to her feet and slapped the “weapon” away. Stepping past the man like he was not even there, she took in the surroundings. The courtyard was large and open with grass that had gotten over knee-high and all but strangled off the flowers that had been carefully planted to border the walkway.