In the Lone and Level Sands

by David Lovato

  “There’s no end to these fuckers!” Lou said. Max kept firing, Ortiz switched magazines.

  “Will we have enough?” Max shouted. If they ran out of ammo, they were pretty much cornered.

  “We’d better,” Ortiz shouted back. “There is no tomorrow.”

  Max suddenly wished he had given Johns a better goodbye. He hoped that off at the school, people were reaching safety for the first time in weeks. He hoped his family was there. He knew they wouldn’t be.

  Max changed magazines. Lou threw his rifle down and got out a different gun, which Max didn’t recognize. Lou continued to fire.

  “Look at that!” Ortiz said. A huge cluster of zombies throbbed at the opening of the brick wall, all trying to get through at once. Many of them toppled over it, landing on their faces, then got back up.

  “I’m on it!” Lou said. He put his gun behind him, went to the Humvee, and got out an RPG.

  “Don’t miss, we don’t have any more of those!” Ortiz said.

  “I don’t plan on it.” Lou knelt down, searched through the site, and fired. It was more precise, more fluid than Max could’ve imagined. Plumes of smoke emerged from both ends as something shot out of the front. Max turned, and the cluster of zombies exploded. A red cloud expanded in all directions, bits and pieces rained from the sky. A small crater was blown into the ground, and some of the brick wall on either side of the opening was gone.

  “They’re getting closer!” Max said. He fired and fired, not even thinking, just aiming and shooting. Suddenly this seemed impossible; Max knew they’d be overtaken any minute.

  Ortiz threw a grenade. Another explosion went off, this one closer. The zombies pressed on.

  “Fuck!” Ortiz said. “We need to light the second wave of flares!”

  “We need to kill the first wave of zombies!” Lou replied.

  “Don’t you think we have their attention?” Max said.

  “Johns is alone!” Ortiz said. “We have to keep the zombies away from the school at all costs!”

  “All right,” Lou said. He grabbed some magazines and hopped over his barricade, still firing down the hill, not looking away. He sidled toward Max and pulled him over the barricade. He pointed toward the wall at the bottom of the hill. “The very first sign of the zombies at the gate dwindling, even the slightest bit, and you and I run our asses off!” He fired into the oncoming crowd. Max did the same. “We get to that second row of flares, and you light them. Don’t even look up, don’t do anything you don’t absolutely have to. And don’t fucking think about me. Just light the flares. I’ll cover you. Got it?”

  “Roger,” Max said. He didn’t feel ready, but he had to be.

  The three continued shooting, and Max kept an eye on the opening, slightly wider because of the RPG, bodies quickly filling the crater in the ground. He didn’t notice any difference in the number of zombies pouring in.

  “Now!” Lou said. With a hard yank that almost knocked Max down the hill, they were off. They ran, and then they were among the zombies. Max kept shooting, and Lou did the same behind him. Left and right, zombies dropped. One charged, missed Max, and fell to the ground. Max ran faster than his legs wanted, his muscles pumping, his heart racing, every breath burning his sides. The hill added to his speed, he didn’t think he’d ever stop. He shoulder-charged a zombie, and it somersaulted backward.

  The flares grew close. Max slowed as much as he could, which wasn’t enough. He dove, legs extended, and slid down the hill in a sort of baseball slide, knocking over a flare as he stopped.

  Max took out his lighter, lit the fuse, and tilted the flare’s stand up. It was broken, and the flare fell back down. He picked it up again and held it in place. In one of the loudest mind-splitting shrieks he’d ever heard, it launched into the sky.

  Max dropped the stand and ran, hunched, to the next flare. He lit its fuse, then continued to the next, then the next. Zombies dropped all around him, even more approached. He took one of the grenades from his belt, pulled the metal pin out, and tossed it toward the gate. He didn’t keep watching to see the carnage he’d create, he just moved to the next flare and lit the fuse.

  And then he was finished. The fuses were all lit, and Lou was practically dragging him back up the hill. Max was exhausted, but he forced his legs to move. Lou hadn’t let go of him, but continued to turn and fire behind them. Max panted, every breath seemed useless. He fired his gun backward, not knowing if he was shooting at anything, guessing he probably was. He reached the barricade and collapsed over it.

  The sky was black above him, tinted red by the flares. The stars were barely visible behind the oceanic, blood-covered veil that expanded in all directions. The grass was wet, and it cooled him. All sound faded into one blur. The ground was soft. He could fall asleep.

  Then he saw Ortiz’s face, and felt firm hands grab his shoulders.

  “On your feet, soldier!”

  The world came back to him, and Max got up. Zombies were now reaching the first barricade, some trying to climb over it. They were dying before they could, the attention of the soldiers was focused on the closest zombies.

  One got through and dove for Ortiz. Max pulled the trigger, but his gun clicked. He didn’t even think. Max dove forward, not for the zombie, but for his mounted sniper rifle. He didn’t look through the scope, just pointed the gun and fired. It tore through the zombie, ripping off everything that existed above its shoulders, showering blood over Ortiz, who fell back from the force of it. Max helped him up.

  “Don’t ever fire that thing this close again!” Ortiz said.

  “You’re welcome,” Max replied. He reloaded his assault rifle, then continued to fire.

  “There are too fucking many!” Lou said. He screamed a war cry, spreading his bullets into the oncoming crowd.

  Max thought he saw death in the form of hundreds of cannibals rushing up a reddening field toward them, but behind that, he saw the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  “They’re thinning out,” he said, so low that nothing could have heard. He didn’t hear it himself.

  New hope rushed through his veins. He let out his own battle cry and fired into the crowd. A zombie reached over the barricade, and Max smashed the butt of his gun into its face as hard as he could, then continued to fire. By the opening, the field was clearing up. Fewer zombies were approaching. Many of them were tripping over the bodies that were piling up all across the field. As the closest zombies dropped like flies, the farthest ones were having trouble getting into the field.

  Lou ran out of ammo. He dropped his gun, pulled out a pistol, and continued to fire. Ortiz, finding himself free of zombies, turned to the Humvee and got out another rifle, then threw it to Lou, who dropped his pistol, cocked the assault rifle, and fired on.

  “Go light the rest of the fuses, Greenwald!” Ortiz said. Max wasn’t afraid this time, and he wouldn’t need help. Most of the zombies were gone.

  Max knew what Ortiz was thinking: The lapse in zombies coincided with the lapse in flares. Any moment, another wave of zombies would be at their doorstep.

  The bodies made the field difficult to navigate. Max discovered this as he went down the hill, carefully, toward the flares.

  And then, the last of the flares in the sky went out, and darkness filled the field. Max could hardly see. “Mother fuck!” he heard Lou say.

  “Greenwald, we can’t see shit! We’re going to have to hold our fire until you get a flare up!” Max was less than thrilled.

  He turned on the flashlight at the end of his gun. Up the hill, he saw two beams of light moving around. Max fired at a zombie, then scanned the ground for the flares.

  Then he tripped on a body and rolled into a flare, toppling it. Max sat up, and a zombie jumped him. He dropped his gun, and it slid down the hill, stopping near the flare.

  “Damn it!” Max said. He held the zombie’s shoulders as it snapped at him, feeling a burning in his face from the familiar scene.

  “Greenwald! Where
are you?”

  The zombie moaned, tried to push itself onto him. “Help!”

  He heard a pistol fire from a few feet away, even though the two flashlight beams still danced at the top of the hill. A chunk of the zombie’s face flew off, and blood splattered on Max’s. The zombie became a dead weight and dropped, no longer moving. Max rolled it off of him, grabbed his gun, and pointed the flashlight at the source of his rescue.

  The first thing he saw was the barrel of a pistol. He could tell it had been raised, but now it was lowering. Max recognized her right away. It was the girl from the lumber yard, and she had just saved his life.

  63

  In Ashton

  The survivors got out of the van. They looked around, something that had become an automatic thing, like recoiling in pain after burning one’s hand. Sara went around to the trunk, opened it, and grabbed Angus’s leash. She fixed it to the metal loop on his collar and let him out onto the grass. He sniffed around and looked up a few times.

  “Come on, Angus,” Sara said. “Let’s get this done.” Angus cocked his head around and then fixed a steady gaze on some zombies a few blocks away. They were too far to notice the survivors, who were gathering their things. Angus growled softly. “It’s okay, Angus, they’re way down there. Let’s keep it that way.”

  Angus looked up at Sara, then lifted a leg. Afterward, he squatted a few feet from where he peed to pinch a loaf. Sara turned her head when she heard Charlotte’s voice.

  “Why is it locked? We never lock the door.”

  “And boarded up, too,” Fred said. “Someone must be staying here.”

  “What the hell?” Charlotte lowered down to the mail slot. She was able to poke through and see inside. Someone had heard their arrival, and was walking toward the door. When he got there, the person ducked down. His eyes and part of his face hovered near the mail slot. They were wide with surprise and brown in color, and a grunt escaped his throat.

  “Who are you guys?” He sounded young, like a teenager.

  “Forget that,” Charlotte said. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”

  “Your house?” The teen’s voice cracked, he blinked, shaking his head. He attempted a more menacing tone. “Just keeping away from the zombies. Isn’t that obvious?”

  “I understand that, but of all the houses, did you have to pick ours?” Charlotte looked nervously at the others, then at the zombies down the street. None seemed aware of them. Good.

  “Why do you want back in so badly? Can’t you pick another house?”

  “Maybe to avoid the zombies,” Charlotte said. “‘Isn’t that obvious?’ Besides, it’s my house!”

  “Well, it’s my house now!”

  “What are we arguing with this dumbass for?” Al said. He lowered in front of the slot. “Kid, you’d better get to unlocking this damn door!”

  The teen poked the barrel of pistol outward, almost hitting Al in the face. “I’ll shoot you, asshole! Go find someplace else to stay!”

  Fred cocked his shotgun. “I’d think twice before I pointed a gun at one of us, boy. Now, either open the door, or I’ll shoot the damn thing open, whether you’re standing in front of it or not.”

  “Okay, okay!” The teen stood up, and the survivors heard the locks turning. The door opened and everyone entered. The boy, who looked to be seventeen or so, tucked away his gun and eyed them all cautiously.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to Charlotte.

  “Forget it,” Charlotte said, looking at Ben with new, wide, hopeful eyes. Ben looked around, trying to soak it all in. He was in a house he didn’t recognize, but he waited for everything to come back to him. The wonder in his eyes slowly faded.

  “So, my name’s Randy Trent,” the teen said. “I hope we can all get past this. It’s hard for me to trust new people, these days.”

  “I have half a mind to smack you upside the head for pointing that gun in my face,” Al said, “but I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, kid.”

  “I think everyone deserves it, these days,” Fred said. “I’m Fred Samson, and this is my wife, Sara, and—”

  Before Fred said another word, Angus jumped on Randy and licked his face.

  “Oof!” Randy tried to push the dog down, but it was difficult. Fred chuckled and pulled Angus off.

  “Angus is harmless, wouldn’t hurt a fly, right boy?”

  The shepherd looked up at Fred and then back at Randy (who bent to pet him), and panted. The others introduced themselves.

  “So, how do you know the others?” Randy asked Carah.

  “She’s actually deaf,” Richard said. He lifted his hands to translate, but Randy stopped him.

  “It’s okay. I got it. I had a friend who was deaf.” Randy repeated his question in sign language.

  Rich and I were heading home not long after people began to change. They helped us.

  “Oh, well they seem nice.”

  They are. Carah smiled.

  “Well?” Charlotte shot Ben a look of hope and impatience. “What do you remember?”

  Ben stopped looking around, now in the living room, and looked at his wife. “I’m not really sure it’s working, but I do remember Randy. He worked as a bag boy at the store up the street.”

  Great, Charlotte thought. He remembers a bag boy from the grocery store, but not his own wife? What the hell is it gonna take?

  “Yeah, I did,” Randy said. “Never thought we’d meet under these circumstances. I mean, outside of that hellhole.” He chuckled, a sad gleam in his eyes. “That place was fucked, hard. I was shopping with my mom when this shit went down. She didn’t make it… She got bitten.” Randy sat down on a chair in the corner of the living room. “We didn’t know bites would get you infected at the time. There wasn’t any way to get information, or anything. We called for help, but no one came. It wasn’t half an hour, and there was no warning. She was just like the others, then.”

  “That’s terrible,” Sara said.

  Randy didn’t say anything, just looked at the floor.

  “I know it doesn’t seem possible, but you’ll get through it,” Al said. “I lost my wife, yesterday. Charlotte lost her mother. We’ve all lost a lot, but we’ll get through it one way or another. I don’t know if it’s much consolation, but you’re not the only one.”

  “It’s a little better knowing that I’m not alone,” Randy said. He met Al’s gaze. “Can I stay here with you guys for a while?”

  “Of course you can,” Charlotte said with a smile.

  “What we need to do is stick together, now,” Fred said. “We don’t stand a chance on our own, so I think it best you stay with us.” He puffed his pipe.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” Randy said. “Thanks.”

  Fred grabbed the dog food and Angus’s bowl, then took them to the kitchen. “Boy, you hungry?” Angus pranced into the kitchen after Fred.

  “Were you guys going to the store? Getting food and stuff?” Randy asked. “There isn’t really enough for all of us here.”

  “We brought some food, but we can always use more,” Charlotte said. “With the Ferrington overrun, it might be better to try another store.”

  “Whatever we do, we shouldn’t all go,” Al said. “Some of us should stay here, hold the place up.”

  “I’ll go, for one,” Fred said.

  “I’m in,” Richard said. He kissed Carah on the lips, and signed to her. She signed back.

  Don’t get yourself killed, being a hero.

  “It’s just a supply run. No need for that. I’ll be fine, trust me.”

  “I’ll go with you guys,” Randy said.

  “We could use someone who knows where to find a store around here,” Fred said. “If you’re sure.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t want to feel useless.”

  “Okay. Myself, Richard, and Randy. That’ll do. Are we ready?” Fred’s companions nodded.

  Randy had his own gun, Richard had Al’s handgun, and Fred had his trusty shotgun.
They headed out the door silently, the others heard the engine ignite, and the van pulled out and went down the street.

  ****

  “Does any of this bring you back?” Charlotte asked. They were in the master bedroom, which was upstairs at the end of a short, carpeted hall. The room swirled with a fragrant breeze, the smell of an Airwick freshener pushed around the room by the ceiling fan. It was a soft, never-intrusive scent, but it did nothing for Ben’s memory. He felt no epiphany.

  “I was hoping just pulling up to the house would help, but I just don’t feel anything more than when we left Bangor,” Ben said. Charlotte sighed. She was beginning to lose hope that anything would make him remember. “Some people don’t really regain everything. I’m just doing this all over again with you. It’s like this time we’ve spent since the crash is all for the first time. You know what I mean?”

  “I think so. I just wonder…”

  “What’s up?”

  “Cellar Door. Does that mean anything to you?” Charlotte eyed Ben hopefully.

  “Cellar Door?” Ben pondered for a moment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that is.” Charlotte looked hurt. “I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe after a little while, we can go to Last Station, the little town where Cellar Door is. It’s a bed and breakfast, a cute place. It’s where you proposed. It’s when I knew we’d grow old together.”

  Ben’s eyes began to water and some of the color left his face. He felt guilty. Ben wanted more than anything to return to what once was, but he also felt like he could just as easily start over again.

  “Charlotte,” Ben said finally.

  “Yes?”

  “I want to do whatever we can to bring us back together. If this place could do that, we’ll try it. I don’t care what we have to face, and if the others won’t go, we’ll go alone—”

  Angus’s deep bark startled Ben and Charlotte. The couple bolted downstairs to see what had disturbed the shepherd.

  “Angus!” Sara said. “Shhhh! Get away from the window!” Angus’s coat shone in a ray of sunlight that poured in between two pieces of wood over the window. Ben rushed over and ducked down. At first, peering through the slats of wood, he saw nothing, but he jumped back when a face met his. He covered his mouth to stifle any noise that might’ve come without warning.