I remember once, when I was a kid, I fell off my granddad’s boat. I couldn’t swim. I would go under and pop back up, screaming. I could never get my bearings. I couldn’t breathe. That was what it was like at that moment. I was drowning in a sea of demons. Only this time, my granddad wasn’t there to pull me out by my shirt collar.
Then my back was against a brick wall. All I could see were hands and faces. There was another, sharper pinch on my calf. I swung the wrench and tried to look around. I was at the corner of the building by the alley. Out of the corner of my right eye I could see the glass truck and our van. There were guns in that van….
Rotting fingers hooked down the front of my tank top. A face like a Halloween mask lunged into mine. I could feel the wetness and the coldness of its teeth scrape along my jawline until it found my right earlobe. The pain was unbelievable. I screamed and pushed it away. That made a brief, but perfect hole. I had just enough room to move, and I swung the wrench in a wide arc, crushing two skulls. I didn’t waste my opportunity; I ran for the van.
They chased me, but once I was closed up inside the vehicle, they lost interest in me. The only one that lingered around the van for a while was the one that had tasted my blood, but eventually, it stumbled away.
I took a look at my ear in the mirror. The lobe was gone, and blood was dribbling out without any indication of stopping. I took off my mask and used it to try to stop the bleeding.
Out the window, the crowd continued down the street. I didn’t see Sara anymore, but the things were starting to gather around the church, which gave me hope that she’d made it inside. The bulldozer and second truck were no longer where I could see them, likely farther down the street or trying to access the church from the other side. I moved to the back of the van and unscrewed the top on the first bottle I found—a partial of Jack Daniels we’d taken from the bar—and downed a couple of swallows. I checked the back window, but the FedEx truck was gone.
I took another drink. My makeshift bandage was soaked through. I winced in anticipation, poured some of the whisky on the wound then screamed into the crook of my arm. I needed to kill as much crud as I could so it wouldn’t get infected. The blood just kept on coming. I went back to the front of the van, to check my ear in the mirror again. Then I looked down and saw the silver cigarette lighter in the dash next to the radio. I looked at my ear again.
“Shit.”
I pushed in the lighter so it would charge up. Out the window, I caught a glimpse of the bucket of the second truck. It was up high, and it came into view briefly from the other side of the church then disappeared again as it was being maneuvered into place next to a second story window. The lighter popped out. I pulled it free and looked into the red, glowing swirls. This was some movie tough guy shit; regular people don’t cauterize their wounds with cigarette lighters. I took another drink and shoved that lighter against my mangled ear.
I don’t really know what happened after that. I could hear screaming, and I guess that was me. I was outside of myself, and then my world was spinning. Then darkness.
Chapter 23
When I woke up, I was in the floor between the seats. I was covered in my own vomit. I pulled myself up into the driver’s seat. There was still a lot of focus on First Baptist Church. I checked myself in the mirror. My ear wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it looked awful. As long as there were zombies surrounding the church, I thought Sara must still be inside. I couldn’t help her if I turned into one of them. I needed to get drunk.
My bottle of Jack was empty—spilled when I passed out—but I had plenty of full bottles in the back. I retrieved a bottle of vodka then sat in the driver’s seat to keep an eye on things.
I didn’t see any of the vehicles out there. All of the men might be inside the church, or they may be parked somewhere like me waiting for the creatures to disperse. It was possible, though I didn’t want to really consider it, that they’d already taken Sara and the creatures were just too stupid to know.
I could still hear the muffled wail of the siren I’d set off the day before. It was probably what had brought the men to us in the first place. I wondered why they hadn’t tried to find me. I wondered about the guy that had been on the roof. I wondered if I’d inflicted any real damage to the bulldozer operator.
I drank a while and watched the crowd. When I got a good buzz going, I went back into the van to assess my weapon supply. I had the 9mm pistol Sara had used to execute the three men from the road. It had four rounds left in the magazine. Then I had the loaded 12 gauge I’d taken from the back of their Jeep. I took one last drink then screwed the lid on. I put the bottle back in the box with the other bottles then moved back to the front with the two guns.
The booze continued to take me long after I quit drinking. I had drunk on an empty stomach, and I had been frazzled by the escape and the pain. I still hurt, but thanks to the vodka, I didn't seem to mind too much. I hoped Sara got away, because at that moment there wasn't much I could do to help her. I'm glad I had closed the bottle before it started to give me courage; any more, and I might have staggered back into the middle of them.
So far as I knew, there was still a man above me on the roof. I had to assume that he was aware of me. While not as important as Sara, the supplies in the van needed to be kept a secret. I would need to leave it if any of the men made an appearance and lead them away from it. Sara and I had gone through too much trouble to collect the stuff to have it all stolen.
The siren stopped. All that could be heard was the lowing and moaning of the undead. I wondered if someone shut it off or if it quit on its own. In the rear view mirror, I saw a blue car drive by headed west--the direction of the siren. I watched the mirror for a while, but there was no more activity except a lone zombie child that walked around in circles behind my van for a few minutes then went away.
I heard three gunshots to the west. There was a pause, and there were two quick taps on a car horn. Another gunshot.
I looked over to the First Baptist Church. In the street between me and church, there was a smear of gore where the bulldozer had pushed through. The infected had not dispersed, but I didn't notice the crowd getting any larger either. I saw no sign of the healthy men at all.
There was another gunshot to the west.
My curiosity was winning. I went into the back of the van and made myself another small supply bag. I doubled up some small plastic bags to make one bag and filled it with the 9mm, some jerky, a bottle of water, and the vodka I had been working on. I made sure no one was around, and I climbed out the back of the van. I had the plastic bag tied to my belt loop, and I was holding the wrench in one hand and the shotgun in the other. As quietly as I could, I clicked the door shut then I darted to the wall of the Quality Glass building and made my way along it to the corner where the alley let out onto Broadway. I felt dizzy, and I almost puked.
I looked west toward the Christian church where I had parked the fire vehicle. I didn't see anything, just a few zombies milling around. Broadway was relatively clear in front of the glass building, too. I went around the corner of the building and looked in the hole where the front windows had been. The building had been full when Sara was inside, but now there were only four of them on the ground floor, probably more on the second floor.
Three gunshots in quick succession rang out to the west. I looked that way again, but I couldn't see any activity. Everything was happening out of my field of vision. Then I heard a shot close by to the south--possibly from Sara's location. I ran back into the alley and ran to the end of the building. All I could see were the zombies around the church.
Part of me wanted to charge in there blasting until I saved her, but I wasn't foolish enough to try it. I had a wrench and seven shots and I was against a gang of healthy, armed men and an army of mindless monsters. There would be no way. I would need help.
I walked backwards to the glass truck and looked in the cab. There were no keys inside. I decided to risk it inside the building and retr
ieve the keys. I would try to make it out to the stables to see if the Somervilles had returned. If not, I would drive out and find Sara's shop teacher. I didn't want to leave her, but I didn't know what else to do.
I entered the building through the side door. Immediately to my right was the entrance to the stairs, and to my left was an office with two desks. The creatures inside the building didn't know I had come in.
I went in the office and searched the desks for the truck keys. I finally found them in the pocket of a coat that was hanging on the back of one of the chairs. I slipped back out to the alley without being noticed. Before I left, I decided to go back up onto the roof of Plucky's Diner one more time to see what I could see from that vantage.
Inside the diner, I got really dizzy again and had to stop on the stairs. I sat, because I thought I was going to faint. My hands were shaking and I felt cold. I took out some jerky and ate it. My stomach wasn't very happy about it, but I managed to keep it down. After a while, things stopped spinning and I was able to stand and proceed to the second floor.
I couldn't carry the shotgun and wrench with me out the window and up the ladder, so I left them propped on the wall inside. On a good day, I might have been able to climb the ladder with the shotgun, but not this day. I knew if the man was still on top of the Quality Glass building, he would have the advantage; he was higher up, he had a rifle, and he wasn't struggling to stay conscious.
I got to the top of the ladder and peeked over. I didn't see anyone. After climbing all the way up, I sat on the roof and pulled the 9mm from the bag. I could see the bulldozer now; it was parked farther down the street, and there was no one manning it. I could see the front of their bucket truck poking out next to the church. I didn't see anyone in it either.
I felt dizzy again, so I lay back on the roof and took a deep breath. I hurt all over, and I was so tired. I don't know how long I was there like that--I might have fallen asleep--but I remember being startled by cold rain drops hitting my face. I sat up, and there he was standing on my ladder staring at me over the top of the building. It was the man I'd seen on the glass building--I recognized the green hat he was wearing--only now he was on my building. His rifle was slung over his shoulder and he had his hands full of ladder. Now, he was at a disadvantage.
I could tell he was surprised to find me sitting up, and that he couldn't make up his mind whether he should come on up or go back down.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey," he said.
His eyes glanced down quickly then back to me. Before he could do anything, I picked up the 9mm and pointed it at him. He started to go down.
"You won't make it," I said and he stopped. I stood, keeping the pistol aimed at him and stepped over him.
"Who are you?" I asked.
He stared up at me but didn't speak.
"Are you with Wheeler?" I asked. He continued to stare. "How about Nathan Camp? How about Hank?" I tried to remember the name of the guy Nicholas Somerville had told me about....
"Kiss my ass," the man said.
I was about to tell him to pull his mask down so I could see his face when I had an idea.
"Come up here," I said. "Do it slowly and keep your hands where I can see them."
He chuckled, "I ain't no dumb ass."
"I could shoot you," I said.
"You could shoot me up there, too."
"Yeah, I could. So which would you prefer?"
He thought it over and said, "Fuck it."
He climbed up onto the roof then put his hands up. I looked him over. We were about the same size. He had a pistol in a shoulder holster.
"Put the guns down in front of you...and be nice."
Slowly, he placed the weapons on the roof in front of him. I really expected him to try something.
"Back away from the guns," I said.
He took two big steps backward.
"Now, take your clothes off," I said.
"Fuck you."
"Do it," I said.
The rain had picked up and was dripping of the brim of his cap. He blinked at me a couple of times, but his eyes didn't betray his thoughts.
"Sorry, pervert," he said, finally, "but I'm saving myself for your girlfriend."
"The shirt and cap ought to be enough," I said. "Take them off."
"I don't think so," he said.
So I shot him in his right leg just above his knee. I was aiming for his crotch. He screamed and dropped to his knees.
"I need your shirt and cap," I said. "I can take them off a dead man, but I don't want to."
"Okay, asshole! Dammit, just give me a second!"
Quickly, he removed his cap, shoulder holster, and shirt. He tossed them toward me. Then he gripped his leg, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Dammit, I need some bandages or something!"
"No need," I said, taking aim with the pistol.
"You said you didn't want to kill me," he said, struggling to get to his feet. He finally made it, and wobbled there. He might have been better off on his knees.
This time my aim was a little better. I hit him in the chest, just below the throat. There was a look of surprise in his eyes. He stumbled back and went over the edge into the alley.
"No," I said to myself. "I said I didn't want to undress a dead man."
It had to be done. He was a bad man--
"Unredeemable."
Chapter 24
I removed my jacket and put his shirt on over my tank top. It was a quilted flannel shirt—blue and black checkered—like the kind some people use as over shirts or jackets. It was warm and stank like him. I put on his cap and then his shoulder holster and pistol. Rifle strapped over my shoulder, I climbed back down to the second floor and into the window. After collecting the shotgun and wrench, I went back downstairs then out into the alley. He was off to my left on his side with his back to me, legs bent as if asleep. His blood was being diluted and washed away by the rain.
A couple of infected women came around the back corner and stopped at his body. They were in the second stage of the virus, but they hadn’t yet begun to decay. I climbed into the glass truck before they got interested in me. One of them got on hands and knees beside him and started chewing on the soft spot below his ribcage. The other knelt and bit his shoulder. This was my handiwork—my fault—but I didn’t care. I felt nothing for him.
I started the truck and turned on the wipers. The women looked up at me from their meal but didn’t come to investigate. I was starting to feel afraid again. It seemed like I was always a little afraid, but I had gotten good at suppressing it. I’ve never been in the military, but I guess that might be what men in combat do. Anyway, the fear was elevating above normal levels and I was starting to feel it again. I was thinking that maybe I should just go with my first thoughts and get Ben Parks to help me. I didn’t want to face those healthy, unpredictable men alone, but I didn’t want to risk driving out into the county for help then coming back to find that they had taken her.
These new clothes along with my mask would allow me to get right in there with them. My plan after that had not yet been formulated. For one thing, all of my recent physical injuries were taking their toll. I was in pain, I was weak, and I was exhausted, and I was still sort of drunk.
I backed the truck out onto Broadway and headed east. I was curious about all of the gunshots to the west, but I didn’t know if they would be friendly to me in my present disguise. Besides, judging by the zombie activity, Sara was inside the First Baptist Church.
I went two blocks then took a right at the courthouse. I stopped on the back side of the court square and looked west down South Street to the church. The bucket truck was parked on this side of the building. The whole block was surrounded by hundreds—possibly thousands--of infected creatures. The bucket was next to a second story window and the window had been broken. I saw no healthy people around.
I didn’t know how I would get in there, and I wondered how they planned to get out. They had left others on th
e outside. Maybe they were the ones shooting to the west. Maybe they were planning to come back in with another bulldozer or something.
I sat there for a few minutes trying to figure out what I should do. Then a man climbed out of the broken window and into the bucket. He was followed by two more. They maneuvered the bucket around so that it was just over the cab of the bulldozer. One of the men climbed out, opened a small door in the top of the cage, and then climbed down into the machine. Then the bucket moved back then down and the two men climbed through the back window of the truck. The bulldozer started up and began to creep through the crowd to clear a path for the truck.
“What the hell?” I said.
Where was Sara? Were they unable to find her? Did they find her, but leave her? Was she hurt?
The dozer shoved a pile of zombies out ahead of it and the bucket truck was able to pull away from the building. I took the opportunity to get in there. I approached the truck just as it drove out onto 7th Street. The men in the truck both pulled their weapons but then lowered them when they thought they recognized me. I stayed far enough away that they couldn’t get a close look. We let our windows down.
“Sammy!” the driver called out. “Why ain’t you using your radio?”
I shrugged like I didn’t have it.
“She ain’t in there!” the driver said. “Willy said they seen her over on 10th Street. We’re headin’ over.”
I nodded. 10th Street?
“We lost James,” he said.
I tried to act sad or disappointed. I wondered if James had been the original bulldozer operator. He rolled his window up, waved, and drove past me taking a right so he could circle around to 10th.
How did she manage to get over to 10th Street?
I followed the bucket truck, and I was nervous as hell. I kept reaching over in the seat next to me to touch the guns for assurance. I felt like I was going to throw up. The bulldozer led the way. We crossed over to 10th via Water Street. They stopped in the intersection for a few seconds then turned left.
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