Dead Stop

  Then silence fell, with nothing but the crows to disturb it.

  However it may have ended, the fight was over.

  Marisa lay there hurting, barely caring whether she was dead or alive. Her body felt like a five thousand pound bruise. It would have probably been easier for her to pinpoint a place that didn’t hurt, if she could find one. At the moment, she felt content to just lie on the bloody concrete and not think about anything. Not the dead, not the victims, not what might be going on in the rest of the country…nothing. She didn’t even want to open her eyes, having seen enough of the bloody madness her world had descended into.

  But she couldn’t stop yet.

  This wasn’t over, and there were still people who needed her. Starting with the only man who could drive the truck out of here.

  “Harley?”

  Nothing.

  “Harley?”

  For another moment there was silence, then a faint grunt came from nearby. Since she never remembered any of the monsters making a vocal sound, she hoped for the best. To her surprise, even the effort of hoping seemed to hurt.

  “Harley?” she groaned again. “Are you still alive?”

  “I think so…” came the muffled reply.

  “Oh, good,” she murmured. “Just checking.”

  With that settled, Marisa considered the idea of simply laying there for a while. She knew she should get moving again, but the effort felt enormous. Besides, the others were safe on the truck stop roof, and there were a lot worse things than getting wet. Surely a little while longer wouldn’t hurt them.

  “Hey, partner?”

  Now what…

  “Yeah, Harley?”

  “You remember that list of turnoffs you wanted me to work on back in the diner?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I’m kinda stuck laying here under this fat naked dead guy, and it just occurred to me this would be a pretty good place to start.”

  “Really? You’re stuck?”

  “Oh yeah. And this definitely falls under the category of ‘bad thing.’”

  “Okay,” she moaned, and stirred to rise. “Just give me a minute.”

  “Did I mention he’s naked?” He sounded markedly unhappy about that.

  “Okay, okay!” Marisa laughed and immediately regretted it. That hurt too. “I’ll be there in a second. Keep your britches on.”

  “Oh, believe me…I will.”

  ###

  “Here you go.”

  Marisa took the offered keys as Harley slid in through the passenger door into the front seat beside her. They fairly gleamed from having been washed off by the man after he had fished them from the squirming mess of body parts in the corner. He really didn’t need to do that since she was long past the point of being bothered by gore, but she decided it still counted as a decent gesture on his part.

  The car was a refurbished Plymouth 4-door from the eighties, and she knew this thing was going to handle like a boat. Also, the last surviving shred of her vanity cringed at the vomit green color of the metal beast. Before tonight she wouldn’t have been caught dead driving it.

  But that was before tonight.

  Tonight, she noted with relief there would be plenty of room for people once they got off the top of the truck at the rest area. Besides, the wild-haired, blood smeared, fright-fest she caught a glimpse of in the mirror didn’t have any business being picky about anything.

  “Okay,” Harley started as she inserted the keys and buckled in. “Now comes the easy part. But I want you to recite the plan back to me, just one more time.”

  “Right,” She rolled down the window just enough to get her arm out as she talked. “I turn on the headlights then open the door. That should draw the zombies by the truck back here toward us. I wait a few seconds to let them get away from the truck, then I back out fast, turn around, and drive straight through them. Then I pull up beside the truck, you hop out of the car and into the semi. After that, I drive on towards the rest area down the road. Bien?”

  “Right,” he nodded, obviously satisfied. Then he looked her way with a haggard grin. “We’re almost out of here, you know. You ready to do this, partner?”

  “I guess,” Marisa sighed and turned on the headlights. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  She started the car and her taillights flooded the door behind them in red. Between those and all the light spilling out of the bay doors once they opened, it should be like waving a red flag in front of a bunch of bulls. Unwelcome recollections of the night’s earlier charge on the gas pumps came to mind. She really had no desire to relive that.

  At least a glance at the gas gauge showed a full tank.

  Marisa reached a gory arm out through the window and snagged the hanging controls for the automatic bay doors. She stared in almost amused despair at the green button. Here she went again…once more opening the doors between her and the death faced horrors outside. This was threatening to become a habit with her. At least this time she had a car’s body between her and the monsters. Hopefully it would be enough.

  With a rueful shake of her head she stabbed the green button and withdrew her arm.

  The electric gate motor hummed to life as she rolled up the window. Marisa gunned the engine, then twisted in her seat to see out the back window. Harley did the same beside her, something even easier for him since he wasn’t wearing a seat belt. She started to protest, then remembered he needed to be unencumbered so he could make the jump to the truck as fast as possible.

  Then all that was forgotten when the bay door rolled open to reveal the storm wracked night beyond…and the lone skeletal figure framed against the darkness.

  “Oh no…” Marisa groaned in horror. “Dios, por favor! No esto!”

  It was Vicki.

  Probably blinded by the sudden lights of the mechanics shop flooding out over it, the wasted corpse stood unmoving in the entranceway. The taillights limned the pale figure in red. The image blurred in the slightly fogged rear window, and Marisa could almost imagine the gentle face those bones once formed…and in doing so, made what she had to do next almost impossible.

  This thing had once been Vicki. The soft spoken girl who calmed her after Marisa got in those awful fights with her mother. The sister who comforted her while Papa spent his final weeks in the hospital fighting cancer. The best friend who helped her make a dress they were to share.

  “That isn’t her,” Harley said softly beside her.

  “I know,” Marisa whispered and, despite what she had said earlier in the diner, fought to believe it.

  Fungus or no fungus, that was Vicki’s body out there. It was her brain. Could they be absolutely sure there was nothing left? Doc was sure, but Doc dealt only in science. Marisa believed in a lot more than that, even if she wasn’t sure what all of it was.

  “Marisa…”

  “I know,” she repeated, but her hand still hovered above the transmission.

  And she did.

  But whether or not Vicki still lived in there, that had once been an integral part of her…from the hands that once played the clarinet with such dexterity, to the full mane of hair, just like hers, that Marisa helped her brush every morning. Even the soggy remains of the dress they had so laughingly worked on together. Whatever that was out there, it had once been Vicki.

  “Marisa…” Harley said in a calm voice. “The others are coming. They will be crowding in here with us in roughly eight seconds. There are a lot of them, and they are stronger than ever. We may not be able to push our way out of them from a dead stop.”

  “I know,” she choked out as her hand closed on the transmission. She had threatened to kill this horror back in the diner. Now faced with the reality of doing just that, it was the last thing she wanted to do. But it was what everybody needed her to do…and it was what she was going to do. Right now.

  She dropped the transmission into reverse.

  This was going to hurt.

  “I’m sorry, Vicki,” the girl whisp
ered. “Please forgive me.”

  Marisa stomped her foot on the gas and the large Plymouth shot backwards out of the garage.

  It smashed into the wasted figure, causing it to fold over the trunk before whipping backward and disappearing under the car. The large sedan bounced and she could literally feel bone crunch and snap under her tires. It felt like pieces of her soul shattered along with them. The sound of it tumbling under the floorboards reverberated through the cab. Then it must have caught under the axle for a second before another jounce and crunch signaled its arrival at the front tires.

  Jerking the wheel to the side, Marisa slid the large vehicle into a turn. She tried not to look at the broken heap of rags that emerged from under the front of the car. In the dim light of the parking lot, it looked so small, so trivial…just a piece of refuse discarded on the asphalt.

  It lay there like a crumpled reminder that everything she loved was truly dead and gone.

  Then the sight of it was mercifully blotted out as the monsters arrived.

  Twisting the wheel again, Marisa slammed the transmission into gear and hit the gas. Her tires spun on the wet asphalt and the car threatened to fishtail. She didn’t let up. Breathing in harsh gulps, she fought to keep the car on course as multiple thumps sounded off the front grill. Several skulls grinned in her headlights before gaping then disappearing under her hood. Withered claws slapped and scratched past the window beside her head. Once the car almost slowed to a stop as the rear tires caught and then spun out on a couple of corpses, but it regained traction and leapt forward through the grisly ranks.

  Then they were through.

  The Plymouth shot across the parking lot towards the diesel pumps, leaving the ranks of the dead behind. Marisa became aware of a pain in her jaw and realized she had been clenching it to the point of fracture. At the same time she caught herself looking in the rear view mirror. She refused to think what she had been looking for and forced herself to focus forward.

  She had to let go.

  She had to. Her friends needed her.

  Marisa maintained speed then slowed the vehicle at the last moment. She did a rapid deceleration that allowed her to just barely bring the car to stop without skidding, but placed Harley’s door almost perfectly across from the one on Grandpa Tom’s truck.. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see figures jumping on the roof of the truck stop and knew the celebration had begun.

  Maybe someday she could join them.

  “We’re here,” Harley confirmed and grabbed the handle of his door. “Your part is done. Now go ahead and get out of here. We’ll meet you at the rest area.”

  He started to exit the car...

  …and that's when Marisa surprised both him and herself by reaching out and catching his arm.

  Halfway out the door, Harley stopped and looked back in at her with confusion.

  “Marisa?”

  The girl struggled to speak, to try and put the pain she was in into words. This wasn’t the time, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Are you okay?” His eyes searched her face.

  Was she? She struggled with that for a second and then decided to go with the truth.

  “No,” her voice quavered, and she discovered she didn’t give one little damn about how pitiful it might have sounded. She was past all that now. “No I’m not. I need you to hurry up, comprende?”

  “Marisa?”

  “Partner,” she smiled feebly but could feel the tears start to well, “I don’t want you to take this wrong, but I’m going to need that shoulder to cry on pretty quick, okay? I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to need it in a big way. So please hurry up.”

  Harley didn’t say a word.

  The man took a quick glance out the rear window, then slid back in and pulled her into his arms. He crushed her to him with a fierce intensity that almost took her breath away…and even as sore as she was, it felt every bit as good as she thought it would.

  “Fifteen minutes,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear and held her tight. “Just get to that rest area and I promise I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. And when I get there, I’m not going to let go again until you make me.”

  She clenched him back, her face buried against his shoulder. All she wanted at that moment was for time to give her a break and stop for a little bit. Just for an eternity or two…that would be fine.

  But that couldn’t be, because the horde was racing up behind them and Harley had to get to the truck.

  “Fifteen minutes,” he repeated. “I promise. Wait for me.”

  And then he was gone.

  Marisa took a deep shuddering breath and recovered her composure as the man leapt out the door.

  Harley covered the short distance to the truck in two quick strides. The eighteen wheeler’s lights flashed as he used the automatic lock on the keychain as he moved. He leapt up onto the truck rail and yanked on the door. It didn’t budge, and she realized the truck must have been unlocked earlier during Harley’s struggles and now he had locked it again by mistake. She watched him fumble with the keys again just as a flicker of motion caught her eye in the rear window.

  The dead were almost upon them…their grinning jaws becoming visible as they entered the diesel islands lights.

  Marisa’s hand hovered over the gear shift and she held her breath, ready to drop the big car into reverse. She had had enough violence and killing for one night, for the rest of her life even, but if these things came much closer before Harley got in the truck she wasn’t going to hesitate to do some more.

  Thankfully, the slam of the truck door informed her that Harley was in the cab and out of harm’s way. She had now done all she could do.

  It was time to go.

  Fighting down the lump in her throat, Marisa shifted the car into drive and pressed the gas. The car eased forward, past the restaurant and towards the front of the parking lot. In the mirror, the lights of the Textro fell behind her for the last time. She pulled the Plymouth up on the road, but hesitated before hitting the gas.

  The highway stretched empty and dark into the rain. Marisa had no idea what kind of world lay at the end of it. She only knew it would be different, and wouldn’t include most of the family and loved ones that had been part of her life. Even now, this still wasn’t over. There still remained a lot of pain, heartache, and loss to deal with in the future.

  But at least she wouldn’t have to face it alone.

  A glance back showed Harley had the eighteen wheeler’s lights on and was just beginning to pull out and start his rescue. Marisa wiped her eye and watched as he swung out in front of the gas pumps in order to start a wide circle of the building. He was doing what he needed to do, and being there for the people who needed him now.

  Her turn would come.

  He had promised.

  “Fifteen minutes, partner,” she whispered as she pulled away into the darkness. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  Epilogue

  Epilogue – Benny

  “Benny? Can you hear me? Time to wake up!”

  He didn’t want to. He just wanted to sleep.

  “Beeennnnniiieeeee. Wakey, wakey!”

  Benny lay there, floating in the blackness, desperately wishing Stacey would go away. As fond as he was of the little waitress, she was annoying the hell out of him. Her voice threatened to pull him from the pain free oblivion he so wanted to sink back into.

  “C’mon Benny. Wake up! The doc says you have to now.”

  The doctor?

  His sluggish mind focused on the word and tried to build on the concept. The doctor? What doctor? Something wasn’t right here.

  Where was he? A hospital? Why was he in a hospital? And why would Stacey be there?

  Benny struggled to understand. He fought to remember how he could have possibly ended up here. At first he drew a blank, then bits and pieces began to come back. A memory of arriving at work while listening to the radio about the approaching storm…a vision of a sky full of wheeling crows…Stacey da
ncing into the kitchen and swinging a towel…Marisa being angry…and…and…

  He fought to bring it back out of the darkness.

  …and looking out the back door to see a screaming Stacey being chased by demons! What the hell?

  “Stacey?” he groaned and forced his eyes open. They felt like they weighed a ton. “Que pasa? What happened…wait…where are we?”

  He wasn’t lying in a hospital bed. He wasn’t even in a hospital. Somebody had stretched him out on a couch in what looked like a feed store, or something very like it. He tried to move to sit up to get a better view but a restraining hand pressed him back down…something easily done since he felt weak as a kitten.

  “Please don’t move, Mr. Trujillo,” the voice of another woman spoke from down around the vicinity of his legs. “I’m still stitching you up and we don’t want me to have any accidents, now do we.”

  Stitches? He was hurt? Benny struggled to remember…

  “It’s okay, Benny,” Stacey beamed at him. She sat in a folding chair beside the couch. “You’re in good hands. Doc is a super genius at figuring things out. She got to spend a few hours online before the power went down and even figured out how to get people’s blood types with the stuff they have here. Guess what? You and I are a match! Now you’re getting a little of the good stuff…guaranteed to make you feel younger and look twice as cute in no time.”

  She grinned and held up a little plastic bag attached to a catheter that he realized was running to his arm. He also noticed a blood stained bandage wrapping the upper part of her arm as well.

  “You’re hurt…” he groaned. “What happened? Where are we? What were those demons chasing you?”

  He watched Stacey look down towards the other woman, obviously for guidance, then face him again with a solemn expression.