“He was my invisible ghost friend. Now I’m sad he wasn’t real.”
April tried to stifle a laugh. “He was real to you.”
Carlie put up her hand to punch again.
“We need to start looking for Terry or we’re screwed,” April said. She looked back and forth. I guess we go this way and circle around the property first.”
“Hopefully, he’s just dead,” Carlie said. She checked her weapon again. “If he’s not, we kill him, right?”
“Since when did you get so cold?”
“Oh, when I say we, I mean you. You’re the one who fucked up and let him live. Tosha is going to be so pissed. At least if she ever finds out he was still alive, you can tell her you put the bullet in his head. Maybe save some face,” Carlie said and started walking. “Not that it matters anyway when it comes to you and Tosha.”
“What does that mean?”
Carlie kept walking. “You know what it means. Don’t play coy with me, sis.”
April sped up. “Tell me what you think is going on.”
Carlie shook her head. “Not just me. Everyone. Mom and dad are so upset, by the way. I think dad is wondering where he went wrong.”
April grabbed her sister by the arm. “Tell me what you’re talking about or I’ll kick your ass.”
“You don’t scare me. I’m quicker than you. I can run rings around you. Tire you out. Wait until you can’t breathe and kick your fat ass,” Carlie said.
April punched her sister, as hard as she could, on the shoulder and smiled when Carlie fell to the ground, crying and holding her arm.
“That’s gonna leave a bruise,” April said. “Now tell me what bullshit you’re talking about.”
“Damn. When did you lose your sense of humor? I’m just messing with you. Getting back at you for the ghost stuff. Lighten up already. I was trying to make it seem like you and Tosha were munching carpet, if you get my meaning. Lesbian lovers. She’d be the lipstick one and you’d be…”
“Say it and I kick you in the face,” April said. “Besides, she might be pretty but she’s more butch than I’ll ever be.”
“True. Let me up. My arm really hurts, asshole,” Carlie said.
“You deserve it.” April helped her sister to her feet. “Do you really think she’s into me?”
“Why? You interested in her?”
April shook her head. “I just don’t want any problems. Tosha seems like a person to stay on the good side of. She’ll write someone off for lesser stuff than what I did here. I can tell. I’m scared, if she finds out Terry escaped, she’s going to hurt me.”
“Not with me covering your back.”
“Not this again,” April said. She started walking. “We need to do this. Find this asshole. I should’ve just let her kill him. It would’ve been so much easier in the grand scheme of things.”
“I’m not going to disagree.”
The sisters walked to the other end of the property and stared at the river. About twenty feet offshore was a double row of chicken wire and posts every few feet. It was there to keep the zombies from easily getting onto land.
“That’s weird, right? No zombies in the water at all,” Carlie said.
“Maybe they really all did leave. I heard someone say this morning they’ve gone back to the highway. A few miles up the road. Just waiting for another command to attack,” April said.
“But there should be a couple of them floating around in the river, pushed in from the inlet. There’s no way every zombie is up the road now,” Carlie said.
April shook her head and turned around. “We’re wasting time. We need to keep looking.”
Carlie ran past her. “I’m gonna jog a bit. Run back and forth like a lunatic. Maybe see if I can find him. It feels cool knowing the zombies are gone.”
“All it takes is one. Be careful and stay in sight. This is how every bad horror movie starts,” April said.
“We’ll cover more ground this way.”
“Agreed. You do all the running. I’m going to walk and relax. It’s too hot for all the energy you’re wasting,” April said and wiped the sweat off her brow.
Carlie ran up the road fifty feet and turned back, smiling and skipping.
“And next time you say I have a fat ass, I’m going to kick you where your ass should be,” April said.
Chapter Six
Mitch didn’t fight when the two men escorted him to a building and pushed him inside, closing the door. The crowd had watched Mitch with wonder and a few with anger.
He could easily slip out the back door or through a window but there was no point. Trying to escape now wasn’t going to do anything but prove his guilt.
The mob would get their pitchforks and torches and chase him through Main Street. Some of them were looking for an excuse to kill him, even if they didn’t know why they hated him so much.
Mitch sat down on the floor in the front room and waited for Tosha. He knew she’d be the first one through the door, firing questions. He hoped that was all she was firing.
An hour later his back was stiff and he’d moved from one spot on the floor to another, trying to find the magic comfortable area that didn’t exist. He’d paced the room for awhile before leaning against the wall. Then back to the floor.
Tosha entered with Bernie right behind and they both looked pissed.
Mitch stood up, noticing they were both armed with weapons drawn. Maybe they’d simply shoot him in the head and be done with it.
“Before you do or say anything, please let me explain,” Mitch said.
Tosha waved her hand. “We don’t have time for that shit right now. We need your aim.” She tossed Mitch a rifle. “If you do anything, and I mean anything, stupid, Bernie and I will take turns shooting you in your dick. Understand?”
He had no idea what was going on but he followed the two women back outside. Was this a trick? He doubted it. Tosha wasn’t much for games unless it was in the bedroom. That one time on the front lawn during a rainstorm.
Seven heavily-armed men were waiting. Mitch hoped it wasn’t a firing squad.
“Let’s go meet these people,” Tosha said. She turned to Mitch. “I want you in front of me at all times. If you make a move to turn around, I will shoot you in the back.”
“I get it. You don’t like me but you need me for something. Can you at least tell me what we’re doing?” Mitch asked.
“Once we get on the road.” Tosha yelled for them to open the gate as she climbed into the driver’s seat of a mini-van parked just inside the gate with the engine running. The armed men piled in and Bernie motioned for Mitch to sit in the front passenger seat, slipping in behind him and tapping his shoulder with her weapon to let him know she was watching.
Tosha drove the vehicle like a bat out of Hell. It was obvious to Mitch they were headed to the only functional bridge left.
“Do you want me to cover you? Kill for you? Look cute for a calendar shoot you have set up?” Mitch asked.
“You are very pretty,” Tosha said, without looking at Mitch. She tapped the side of her head. “But you have no imagination. No substance. You can shoot and kill but nothing more. You know, for a brief moment, I thought I’d made a mistake tossing you out of my bed. Now I’m happy I stuck to my gut.”
“Well, that’s really mean. I have feelings, you know.”
Tosha shrugged and kept driving.
Once they reached the bridge, they drove to the top, parking twenty feet back from the chain link fence they’d set up. There were three more vehicles spaced out and not in a straight line, which Mitch thought was a wise decision in the event they were attacked and ranged weapons were used to blow them up.
A sandbag wall ran across the bridge with a break in the middle to get through. It was nearly four feet tall and reinforced with pieces of metal and wooden braces.
Everyone was out and walking quickly to the fence.
Three men with rifles nodded at Tosha and the lead man, older with long gray hair
and glasses, pointed across the river.
“I count at least fifty. Armed, too. They’re in a convoy of pickup trucks and even have a psychedelic van like in that cartoon,” the man said.
“Like in Scooby Doo?” Mitch asked.
“Shut up and back up,” Tosha said, dropping the angle of her weapon so it pointed directly at Mitch’s manhood. “I’m a really good shot. I bet I can even hit that little thing.”
Mitch shook his head but walked back a few feet, standing with the rest of the fighters. He decided to stop pressing his luck and listen.
“From what we understand, the zombies parted like the water in the Bible,” the man said.
Mitch wanted to yell Red Sea but kept his mouth shut and glanced at Bernie, who was also aiming at his package. These chicks didn’t fool around.
“These guys drove right through Daytona. The zombies simply walked away. I doubt they even saw them. It’s really fucked up. Sorry, ma’am,” the man said.
“What are they doing now? Watching us? Planning to attack? Who the fuck are they?” Tosha asked.
“About fifteen minutes ago one of them rode over on a motorcycle. A really nice one, too. Harley maybe. He said he wanted to set up a meeting. I told him you were on your way so he said to wave them over when you were ready to talk,” the man said. “Here you are.”
Tosha looked at Bernie. “This show is yours. Take command.”
Bernie shook her head.
Tosha looked pissed. She grabbed Bernie by the arm as she rushed over, turning her to the side of the bridge. The women engaged in a heated but quiet debate until Tosha finally smiled and slapped Bernie on the ass.
Bernie didn’t look too happy as she walked back to the fence. “Call them over.”
Tosha looked at Mitch. “Can you be trusted?”
“Of course.”
“I want you to her right. Cover her. Anyone does anything stupid you have my permission to shoot them in the head. If I see your muzzle stray near her back or to anyone on this side, I shoot you,” Tosha said.
“I understand the definition of trust,” Mitch said. He moved to his right and put a leg over the side of the bridge rail, glad there was a thin walk he could use. He hooked his leg so if he had to shoot the kick wouldn’t toss him backwards into the river.
The man with the glasses had waved and now it looked like two motorcycles were coming slowly over the bridge.
Tosha went to the left of the bridge but closer to Bernie than Mitch was. Everyone else spread out, hanging back near the vehicles or behind the wall.
“If Bernie touches her hair with her left hand, we start shooting,” Tosha said.
The two motorcycles stopped only a foot from the fence. There were three riders total: a large black man wearing camouflage pants and a Run DMC t-shirt. He wore a Black Death Coffee trucker hat, his eyes covered in thick sunglasses.
A woman with an angry red scar across her left cheek and tapering to her neck and down into her shirt had been the driver of their motorcycle. She stood off to the side, holding an AK-47 and not looking happy.
The other man stayed on his bike, an obese bald man with a long, straggly goatee. His bald head was beet red and he rubbed his eyes and smiled as he turned off his motorcycle.
“I’m Profit,” the black man said.
“Prophet like a nutcase who thinks God talks through him, or Profit like financial gain?” Bernie asked.
He smiled and took off his sunglasses. “Money. It’s all about money.”
“What do you want?” Bernie asked.
“I just want to talk for right now. See if we’re on the same page. Compatible, which I hope we are,” Profit said. “Forgive me for being so bold but I haven’t been this close to a pretty black woman in far too long. I hope we can get to know one another.”
“Calm your hormones, buddy,” Bernie said.
Profit shrugged. “This woman is the reason I’m still alive. I owe her a debt I will never be able to repay. Jada goes wherever I go. Don’t let her friendly smile and nonstop talking fool you. She’s not friendly.”
Jada glanced at Profit and looked annoyed.
“Big Man is on my other side at all times. We’ve been brothers since before this mess. Served in Afghanistan together.”
“We’re not really brothers. I’m white,” Big Man said.
“Right now you’re more red. Maybe I’ll call you Red Man like the rapper,” Profit said.
“I prefer my music with actual music in it.”
Bernie put her hands up. “Enough of the bullshit. You can go through this rehearsed shit all you want. Just tell me what the fuck you want or move on without incident and we’ll forget about this wasted encounter.”
Profit nodded. “No disrespect, ma’am. I was just trying to show you we’re normal people. Just trying to survive the same as you. We’ve been pushed east since we hit I-10 in Louisiana. Zombies crowded us to the south at every turn until we hit the main highway. Craziest thing you ever saw.”
“Not if you knew what was going on,” Bernie said. “How many men do you have?”
“Forty-six able to fight. Fifteen old and children we’re looking after. We’re low on ammo and fuel. Food and water. Clean clothing. I haven’t taken a real shower since Dallas. Can’t tell you when that was,” Profit said. “You never told me who you are.”
“I’m Bernie. That’s all you need to know for now.”
“I suppose asking you how many men you have or what rations are behind those crumbling walls would be stupid, so I won’t,” Profit said.
“You would be correct. My initial thought is to let you go your own way. No harm. No foul. You stay on that side of the river and we stay on our side. As soon as you can move on, it would be appreciated,” Bernie said.
Mitch adjusted his arms so he didn’t cramp. Bernie had basically told this guy to go away. If the bullets were going to fly, it would be now, especially if he was a hothead.
“I don’t suppose we can talk in private. Trade some information. Perhaps loan us some gear or allow me a shower,” Profit said.
Bernie shook her head.
No one said anything for nearly a minute, merely staring at one another, waiting for someone to break the ice.
“Are we through here?” Tosha asked.
Profit nodded at Bernie. “While I don’t necessarily agree with your decision, I do understand it. I’m not sure I’d do anything different if I were in your spot. Armed strangers appearing at your bridge with a smile aren’t very convincing, even if their leader is a damn fine-looking man who’d love to get to know you better.”
Bernie didn’t smile or blush or offer anything.
Mitch was impressed how quickly she was taking command.
“If you change your mind, feel free to signal and we can talk again. We’ll be leaving at first light tomorrow morning unless you have a problem with it,” Profit said.
“You stay on that side and we’ll stay on this side,” Bernie said.
Profit nodded and got back on the motorcycle with Jada.
Big Man started his bike and was the first to turn and ride away. Jada followed and Profit waved as they left.
Bernie turned to Tosha. “Make sure they stay on their side. Take Mitch and go across when it gets dark.”
Chapter Seven
The two women were hanging around too long and Terry was getting cold sitting waist-deep in the river. He kept looking around; fearful a zombie would appear or grab his ankle underwater and scare the shit out of him.
Terry needed to get out of the water and find dry clothes. And definitely a weapon.
Both women had a weapon but it was too risky to show his face. He needed to stay in the shadows and sneak into The Promised Land once it was dark. Hide out and see who was still around so he could figure out what had happened and who was still in his corner.
He’d heard quite a commotion and wondered if Mitch had actually pulled it off. Maybe The Lich Lord was dead or the smarter people had risen u
p to take him down.
Terry might be a fucking hero.
But he didn’t think so.
He turned and looked across the river. In this spot, it was closer to go to the other side thanks to a few stunted trees and grass on a couple of small islands. He could easily swim out to one and hop across a few and get to the other side. What then?
The dark-haired chick had been with Tosha but refused to kill him. Now she was regretting her decision. Terry could pop out with his hands up and have the girls take him to Tosha, but the redheaded bitch might finish what she wanted and kill him.
Terry thought it was better to catch a cold in the river than see what Tosha had in her head. She wasn’t going to let him walk away without retribution for what he’d tried to do to her.
When it was obvious they were going to keep talking and wander around the area looking for him, Terry knew he had to do something.
Once he was sure they had gone to the other side of the former restaurant, he doggy-paddled into the river and hoped he could fight the pull so he didn’t end up in the ocean.
If he’d tried to run across the road and head up the road, he was sure he’d be seen. Once it was dark tonight he’d try to find a boat or something to help get back across the water.
What the fuck are you doing? Terry hesitated. He didn’t know in which direction was certain death and which way to safety.
Neither is safe, you idiot.
“Fuck it. If I drown, it’s my own damn fault,” Terry whispered and kept going, feeling the strong tug of the current but trying not to panic. If he splashed, the women might see where he was and take a shot or two.
Drowning would suck but going under because you were also shot and bleeding would be even worse. He’d be a human chum salad for the sharks he knew were in the inlet and maybe in the river as well.
Terry got across to an island. Not the one he was aiming for but one about a hundred yards downstream by the time he pulled himself from the river.
It was good enough.
His legs and arms were throbbing with the exertion. He had thought he was in great shape until now. Every muscle ached and he’d only had to swim for a few minutes.
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