It hissed at her, gurgling across rotten teeth.
"Yeah yeah yeah," said Maylee, slamming her bat down into the corpse's skull. Two of the nails thudded into the corpse's forehead. It jerked, coughing gunk onto the metal bat, then was still.
She wrenched the bat free. She saw trees. The walls of World Memorial further off than she'd guessed. The truck Mom and the others had taken shelter behind.
No Dalton.
"Dalton!"
A yell came from her left. Dalton's voice. She jerked her head to look but could only see trees and snow.
A second yell came. She couldn't make out words, but the tone was clear. He wasn't calling for her. He was in trouble.
She ran in the direction of his voice, ducking around trees and moving as quickly as she could without slipping in the snow.
She rounded a tree and came upon the corpse of a fat man. He was missing both eyes and ice clung to his thick grey beard. He gurgled and reached for Maylee.
"No time, dipshit," said Maylee, smacking him aside with the bat. He grunted and fell, stumbling in the snow and spitting dark blood from his broken mouth. Maylee kept running.
She slipped between two trees and stopped, trying to get her bearings.
"Stay back!" yelled Dalton to her right. She looked to see him crouched down, jabbing a large stick at a corpse that stood over him. Another corpse lay at his feet, a stick lodged in its eye.
"Dalton!" yelled Maylee, running into the clearing.
"I got this!" said Dalton, gripping the stick and watching the corpse.
The corpse leaned in, reaching for him.
"Ow!" said Dalton, clutching his head and looking pained.
A bright flash of light filled the clearing. Maylee stopped running, blinded and stumbling in the snow.
Her vision returned. She blinked in surprise. Both Dalton and the corpse looked surprised. The corpse stood staring down at Dalton, animal confusion on its face. Dalton looked pale. He had one hand on his forehead and the other gripped the stick.
"What the hell?" said Maylee.
The corpse groaned and reached for Dalton. Dalton backed up while remaining crouched. He jabbed at the corpse with the stick.
Maylee shook her head clear.
The corpse grabbed Dalton's coat and pulled him toward its open mouth. Dalton grunted in frustration, ramming the stick into the corpse's face. He missed the eye.
Maylee ran forward, holding her bat over her shoulder. She stopped, using her momentum to fling the bat overhand at the corpse. It spun through the air and rammed into the corpse's temple. It stuck in place as nails thudded into skull. The corpse gurgled and let go of Dalton, falling sideways into the snow.
Maylee ran the rest of the way to Dalton. He was frowning up at her, still pale and shaken.
"You okay?"
"Think so," said Dalton.
"What was that?"
"No idea."
The corpse groaned from the ground beside Maylee. It clawed at the snow, trying to grab her legs. The bat rocked back and forth, still lodged in its skull.
"One second," said Maylee, sighing. She walked over to the corpse and stomped on the bat, driving it deep into the corpse's head. She heard the skull crack and thick glop shot out into the snow. The corpse's hands fell.
"I could have gotten him," said Dalton, standing. "And even if I hadn't, I'm all immune and crap."
"Let's be honest, Dalton," said Maylee. She bent down to wrench the bat free. She straightened, shaking the bat to clean it. "The last time you got bit you weren't exactly dancing and shitting rainbows. You got really sick."
"Whatever," said Dalton, wiping snow from his clothes.
"Whatever, said Maylee, mocking his tone. "Let's just get back."
* * *
Angie crawled forward through the snow and ice, careful not to hit the underside of the truck above her. She winced as her bad ankle flexed. The others around her grunt as they moved with her.
Finally she was clear of the truck. She stood as best she could, spitting out snow and shaking her hair to clear it. The others climbed to their feet next to her.
She scanned the nearby trees, looking for Maylee. She breathed out in relief when she saw her and Dalton making their way through the snow. They both seemed alright.
She turned to look at the truck. It had been pushed into the wall, almost toppling it in the process. Angie was thankful it had hit one of the sturdier points. The wall was bent around the truck, seams showing in the random sheets of metal that had been nailed together years ago. Angie sighed, thinking of the repairs that would be necessary.
"Damn," said Dunwoody next to her.
"Yep. Gonna be a bitch."
"You gotta be shitting me," came Elton's voice from one side. Angie turned to see him emerging from the smashed-open gate. She groaned at the gate’s condition. It would take the better part of the night to rebuild it.
"This was your plan?" said Elton, picking his way through the snow and twisted metal. A group of townsfolk followed him out into the snow. "Smash the hell out of everything and hope for the best?"
"Not now, Elton," said Angie, turning to the others to make sure they were okay. They looked shaken but alright.
"When, exactly?" said Elton, coming closer. "When the whole place falls apart and all these people get eaten?"
Angie turned back to him, adjusting her weight on her ankle. The pain only pissed her off more. She scanned the townsfolk who'd followed him out. They were newer arrivals. People who had shown up too fast for Angie to keep up. She hadn't gotten to know them as well as the others.
"Well, since you're so concerned, Elton, why don't you get working on putting things back together? Or plugging whatever holes things keep getting through?"
"Don't look at me about that," said Elton, shrugging his shoulders and crossing his arms. "You left your kids in charge."
He nodded to Maylee and Dalton as they approached. They were close enough to hear. Maylee glared at him.
"Angie," said Dunwoody to Angie's side. Angie turned to see Dunwoody holding out her cane.
Angie took it, nodding at him. "Thanks."
Dunwoody then gestured toward the gate. Mikella, the remaining volunteer who cared for the children, was leading a little boy outside. It was Zach, the most recent of the arrivals.
The older woman saw Angie and waved her over. "One of the little ones got hurt in the attack."
"Damn it," said Angie under her breath. She began making her way to the boy. Maylee and Dalton caught up and followed. Elton stayed behind, shaking his head and snorting.
"Remind me why we keep Elton here," said Angie.
"He's a good shot," said Maylee, sighing like something pained her. "Plus his granddaughter's nice."
"When we started letting people live with us, I told myself that I wouldn't turn anyone away. Not after all those people died at the zoo. I told myself I wouldn't abandon anyone again. But Elton..."
"I know what you mean," said Maylee. She looked back at Elton, then turned back. Angie could tell from her face she was hiding something. "We may not have a choice, though."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure yet," said Maylee, "but he sure seems to be nice and absent when things are getting in."
"You don't think....?"
"Oh I think," Maylee snorted, staring at the snow as she stepped over it. "I just don't know."
They reached the spot where Zach stood. Angie pushed her thoughts aside and smiled at him. "How's it going, Zach?"
"I hurt my wrist getting away from the pigs."
"I told him to stay inside," said Mikella, shaking her head. "He wanted to see what was going on. He got too far away from the door then ran when he saw the boars."
Angie knelt to Zach’s level. Her ankle complained, but she ignored it. She balanced on her cane, holding it straight to one side. "How bad is it?"
"It's okay," said Zach, looking embarrassed.
"Let me see," said Angie, holding ou
t her free hand.
Zach looked more embarrassed than before. He pulled his coat up from his left wrist and showed it to Angie, who took it gently and inspected it. It was bruised.
"Can you move it?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Zach.
"Does it hurt when you move it?"
"Not bad," he replied.
"How did you hurt it?"
"I fell."
Angie looked the wrist over once more, then let it go. "Okay. It's probably not broken. You should be okay."
The boy pulled his coat sleeve back over his wrist.
Angie thought for a moment. "Let me see the other one."
"Why?"
"If you fell you probably tried to catch yourself with both hands. You might have hurt the other wrist too."
"No. It's fine."
"I just want to make sure it's okay," said Angie, holding out her hand again.
The boy backed up a step, stopping when he hit Mikella behind him. Angie kept smiling, but recognized the look on the boy's face. It wasn't embarrassment any more.
"Come on, Zach," said Angie. "It'll be okay. Let me look."
Zach refused to make eye contact. Angie knew his expression. She'd seen it many times, when Dalton was Zach's age. Zach was hiding something.
"Go on, Zach," Mikella said, the older woman’s voice taking on a stern grandmotherly tone. "Show Miss Angie."
Zach looked back at the older woman, then at Angie. He sighed and pulled up the sleeve from his right wrist and held it out.
At first Angie saw nothing out of the ordinary. No bruising or scrapes. "Looks okay..." she started to say.
Then she stopped.
A scar covered the underside of his forearm.
"What did this, Zach?" said Angie, keeping her voice level and pleasant as she inspected the scar.
"I dunno," said Zach. He tried to pull his arm away. Angie kept her grip gentle but firm enough to stop him. "Some animal."
Angie stared at the scar. She could clearly see the outline of teeth. Human teeth.
"Did someone bite you, Zach?"
"No," said Zach, shaking his head and trying to pull away. He looked back at Mikella, then at Angie. He sighed, lowering his head. "Yes."
Angie swallowed. Things got noticeably quiet around her as others strained to listen. "Were they alive, Zach?"
Zach stared at the ground, no longer trying to pull away. "No."
A ripple of panic ran through those gathered around. Angie lifted a finger on the hand she held on the cane, indicating for everyone to keep still. "This bite is old, Zach," she said, loud enough to make sure everyone heard. "And it healed. What happened after you got bit, Zach?"
"I got sick. Real sick. But then I got better."
Seven
Park strode through the snow in the dark, his crunching footsteps echoing among the trees. A plastic, battery powered lantern hung from one hand, its yellow light bobbing up and down the snow. He intended to walk as long as he could before camping, by which Park meant sitting against a tree and sleeping.
The woman, Beulah, walked behind him, her dress dragging along the snow behind her. She kept humming a tune Park couldn't make sense of.
"So," said Park, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour, "the plan is for you to just follow me the whole way? You need directions?"
"Oh, I know where we're going," said Beulah. "I'm just making sure you get there safe and sound."
He looked back at her. She smiled at him, her dark hair bobbing behind her as she walked. Her bare arms showed no signs of exposure in the cold, no trace of redness or frostbite. "Aren't you freezing the fuck to death out here?"
"You swear a lot," Beulah pointed out.
He looked back to the front and kept walking. "No shit."
"But to answer your question, no, I’m not. I could find a coat or something, to pretend, if it would make you feel better."
"I don't give a shit what you do."
They trudged along in silence for a few moments.
"Did you like the dreams I sent you?" said Beulah.
"Sure," said Park. "Whatever you say, crazy-ass." But he didn't really believe she was crazy. He knew he'd seen her in the dreams. And he knew he'd never seen her before the dreams.
But worse than any of that was this. When she had walked off to "deal with" the people who'd shot at him, he'd stayed behind to check on his gun. He hadn't wanted to, not really, but he had all the same. He'd felt a pressure in his brain to keep his back turned. When she'd come back, the pressure disappeared, and he could turn around to face her. He hadn't liked it.
"Would you like some explanations, Parker?" she asked.
"Will I give a shit?"
She seemed to ignore that. "My name is Beulah."
"Wow," said Park. "What a revelation."
"It's been Beulah for a long time. Far longer than you've been alive. But for a longer time before that, I had no name at all. I also didn't have this form. I don't think I had any form. Do you understand?"
"Of course not. I believe this is what is known as bug-fuck rambling."
A rustle came from Park's right. He spun, sliding his rifle from his shoulder. A large brown bear emerged from the trees, the light from the lantern sending long shadows behind it. It roared at him, going up on its back legs.
"Well shit on me sideways," said Park, setting the lantern down. He took his rifle in both hands and aimed it at the bear.
"Wait," said Beulah, putting a hand on Park's shoulder. She stepped past him, toward the bear. The bear grunted at her as she approached.
"Get the fuck out of there, lady," said Park, trying to aim around her.
"I said wait, Parker." Beulah stepped up to the bear until she was a foot away. It roared at her.
"There there," said Beulah to the bear. "What's she done to you?"
The bear growled and swiped a paw at her. Beulah caught the paw mid-swing and held it in place.
"What the fuck?" said Park, lowering his rifle but keeping it ready.
Beulah smiled at the bear, keeping ahold of its paw. "You poor thing. Let me get her out of there."
Beulah reached up and lightly touched the bear on the forehead. The bear immediately relaxed. Beulah let go of its paw and it went down on all fours. It shook its head as if confused about something, then snorted at Park and headed back into the woods.
Park stared at Beulah. He slung the rifle back over his shoulder. "Well, ain't that some shit."
Beulah smiled and walked back over to him.
"Gonna tell me how you did that?" he asked, picking up his lantern.
"I did that because I'm myself, Parker."
Park sighed. "So we're back to that bullshit." Not knowing what else to do, he resumed walking.
Beulah fell back into place behind him. "You'll have to forgive me, Parker. It's been a long time since I've directly interacted with one of you."
"A sane person?"
"I don't always choose my words correctly. I assume too much will be understood."
"Who's 'she'?'"
"Hmmm?"
"Who's the 'she' you were jabbering to the bear about?"
"Sharon," said Beulah. "My sister."
"She crazy too?"
"Of a sort," said Beulah. "She doesn't like you."
"Well, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding," said Park, ducking around a tree. He heard Beulah follow him.
"Not just you individually. All of you."
"Again, non-crazies?"
"People. Humans."
"You're saying you're not human?"
"I thought we established that."
"What was the dosage?" Park said, stepping over a fallen tree.
"What?"
"The dosage of meds they had you on. Before you escaped the loony house." He thought for a moment. "A loony house during all this would be quite a sight."
"Stop," said Beulah.
"Why? Hurting your batshit feelings? I didn't ask you to help me or tag along."
"I mean stop walking, Parker." There was a sternness to her voice. Park stopped. Again, he didn't completely want to, but he felt a pressure in his brain to stop. Like it would be more pleasant for him if he did.
He turned to face her as she stood there in the snow. "What?"
"There," she said, pointing out into the trees.
Park turned to look, holding the lantern high over his head to extend its light. A corpse was stumbling nearby in the snow. It was a large man with long rips down each arm. Exposed muscle flexed and cracked in the cold air. He groaned and stumbled at Park.
"Don't shoot it," said Beulah.
"Damn, you are crazy," he said, hanging the lantern on a nearby branch and sliding his rifle off his shoulder.
"I said don't shoot it!" said Beulah. It was the first time he'd heard her raise her voice. A slight tremor went through Park and he slipped the rifle back onto his shoulder. It felt like it was his idea to do it, but part of him knew it was not. He wanted to tell her to stop doing that to him, but that would require admitting that she was doing anything to him.
Beulah stepped past him and headed to the corpse. She stepped lightly over the snow and fallen branches. It occurred to Park that she stepped a little too lightly, as though she wasn't interacting with the ground as much as she should.
She reached the corpse and stopped a few feet from it. The corpse groaned and reached for her.
"Yes, yes," she said. "Are you watching, Parker?"
"Sure," said Park, struggling with himself over whether he should lift his rifle. He knew the thought to keep it lowered was not his, but it felt like it was. It felt so similar it was almost convincing. He hated it. "Whatever you say."
"Good," said Beulah. She held out her arm to the corpse, turning her forearm to face its mouth. The large man groaned and grabbed her arm.
"Shit lady," said Park, wanting to get his gun. He started to raise it. It somehow hurt to do it.
The large man bit into Beulah’s arm. He groaned and chewed. It took Park a few moments to realize there was no blood.
"That's enough," she said. She pulled her arm away from the corpse. She was unharmed.
"Well fuck me," said Park, not sure what he was seeing.
The corpse groaned and reached for Beulah. "Not now," Beulah said, touching the corpse lightly on the forehead. The corpse stopped, staring at her but no longer reaching. He dropped his arms and stood there, docile.
World Memorial Page 10