“Roger dodger.” he said and hit the go pedal again, sending the heavy armored vehicle flying down the road into the smoke and flames, smashing the body parts and undead things into paste.
30
Tombstone
Now that it was all over, the kids started to feel a little fear. Not of the zombies, they knew they were never in any real danger. They’d all lived through up close encounters with them, fighting them off with their bare hands or running for their lives as others died around them. Being inside the Bradley meant they were invincible. They were afraid of the truck drivers and what they were going to say. They might really be in trouble, they might be really mad.
Gage pulled up next to the wall, crunching more bodies under the treads, sending spurts of rotting intestines and spoiled blood into the grass kept short by the wandering herds of sheep. He shut the noisy engine down and they popped the hatches to stick their heads out. The shooting from the top of the rail cars had stopped and there were crowds staring down into the area between the gates. Into the killing field. It was eerily silent after the cacophony of cannon fire, the revving motor, the screaming undead and the sound of a hundred rifles. Someone saw the kids and slid a ladder down to them. There were nods of acknowledgement as they climbed to the top but no one yelled at them, no one scolded them for doing something reckless and dangerous. The men that noticed them seemed to approve, seemed to think they were supposed to be manning the Bradley. A few even clapped them on the back, quietly said good job, as they squeezed through to see who they had saved.
Only one man had come out of the smoking, broken-down gore splattered bus. It was a bearded guy speaking in careful, stilted English that carried in the hushed silence. Everyone was trying to hear, none of the men on the barricade made a sound and the Slavic accent was unmistakable. Russian or something similar. Mayor Tackett was reading the note again and looking at a piece of Lakota gold.
“We understand, sir. Doctor must check for bite.” he said. They were standing a little aside from the door in a clear spot that wasn’t littered with undead bodies. “But ladies would like opportunity to present themselves in favorable manner. Please follow, I show.”
Did he say ladies? The men on the wall all tried to crowd a little closer, to see what the Russian was talking about. Tackett followed the man up the steps and saw for himself what he was talking about. There were about fifty women, hair in disarray, torn and bloody clothes streaked with black blood from the desperate battle. They had been on the road for days and were covered in grime and dirt. Some looked shell shocked; some defiant, some hopeful, some afraid. They were all races and colors and nationalities. Asian, black, white and everything in between. All young and probably pretty under the layer of dirt and gore.
They had been fighting for their lives for endless hours, ever since they had run into the horde nearly a day ago. The bus had taken damage trying to get through it but they’d managed to keep ahead far enough to refuel and add water to the leaking radiator. They fought them off with sticks and fists, beating them away from the windows as the Russian kept them moving. They never had more than a few minutes rest, the tired old bus barely managing to go more than twenty or thirty miles an hour. When he ran over a chunk of metal in the road and the tire blew, they thought they were finally going to die. They were so close, they had come so far, lived through so much and they would be torn to shreds within sight of the walled city they had hoped and prayed was real.
Mayor Tackett read the note again and shook his head. It wasn’t the original, it had very carefully been copied, right down to the smiley face.
“Welcome to America.” It started out then went on with radio frequencies they monitored, the names of a few fortified towns and a crude map of where they were. It ended with “handsome devils looking for wives.” And the smiley face. It seems Jessie had found them something that had been unobtainable at any price. A boat load of women.
“Okay.” Tackett agreed. “We’ll make an exception, this is a pretty unusual situation. The doc can check the girls out here on the bus so the whole town isn’t gawking at them. I’ll run everyone off, get them to work cleaning up the mess outside and you can take the ladies to the Roadhouse. They’ll have to bunk together, probably five or six to a room, but I don’t think they’ll be there long. Every cowboy in town is looking for a wife.”
The Russian didn’t even try to deny it, try to claim they were legal domestic help or students planning on attending school and unfortunately the documents had been lost. There were only a couple of reasons a cargo ship would be smuggling in a few hundred beautiful, young women. Tackett wasn’t born yesterday, they were either prostitutes or mail order brides. Ivan claimed they were all spoken for brides of wealthy and lonely clients but it really didn’t matter. Everyone in Tombstone was glad they were there. The past was the past. Now they were free citizens, they could be whoever they wanted to be and he imagined most would soon be a rancher’s wife. He’d have to get on the radio and alert the other towns to be on the lookout. The Russian said the other two groups were bound for the Hutterites and Lakota.
Mayor Tackett finally got the men down off the wall by telling them there would be a meet and greet at the Roadhouse tonight, but not until the mess outside the walls was cleaned up. The truckers tried to act mad at the kids but Hot Rod just winked at them, told them to take the Bradley and head on down the road a few miles to take care of all the stragglers and crawlers. They’d proved themselves, they’d saved the lives of everyone on the bus. He’d never look at them like aggravating kids again.
Bobcats and tractors were fired up, bodies were piled on the lowboy and hauled miles away. Dead batteries on irrigation trucks were jump started and roads were hosed down, washing the stinking blood away and letting it soak into the ground. Men lined up with five-gallon buckets to pick up burnt body parts left over from the explosives. The road was a mess, big holes blown in it, but they could send retrievers out to get some blacktop patch from the Home Depot. The most important thing was there was a busload of women safe and sound inside the walls. Even picking up the nastiest stringers of guts didn’t dampen the men’s spirits as they joked about their chances with the ladies and wondered if they still had dress up clothes that would fit. There hadn’t been any reason to put on their best before and to a man they’d lost weight, gotten leaner and harder over the past year. Hard work, long hours and a healthy diet that wasn’t mostly sugars and chemicals would do that.
There was going to be a party tonight, they were celebrating a great battle victory, the Road Angel who sent them a bevy of ladies and the kids from Lakota who had stowed away and saved the day.
After the doc had checked them for bites, Sandy and the other women in town were waiting for them at the Roadhouse. They kicked all the men out, even the bartender and cook, then barred the doors. Curtains were drawn, tables were shoved aside and washtubs were filled with hot water. They stripped the girls out of their rags and sent the old men over to the stores to bring back armloads of clean clothes and shoes. They shooed them away again, never letting them get a peek, sending them after perfumes and ribbons and more shampoo.
Tombstone was a plain Colorado ranching town with none of the luxuries of the Tower or Lakota. The men and women who fortified it last year, who fought to defend it and keep it safe, liked it like that. They were simple farmers and ranchers even before the fall, most never had cable tv or internet or designer fashions and they didn’t miss them one bit. It would have been nice to have electricity but they made do. If they needed it for a particular job, there was always generator power. Cowboying hadn’t changed much in the last hundred years if you broke it down to the basics. Breed the cow, feed the cow, water the cow, eat the cow.
Travelers came in and some stayed, claimed a ranch on the outskirts because there were plenty to be had and enjoyed the simpler lifestyle. Others moved on, unable to adapt to life without electric lights or running water at the tap. Some chose Cascade up in Idaho, it was
secure and growing and they were working on getting power or there was always Lakota, they still had room inside the walls although it was getting a little crowded.
As they washed away weeks of grime and horror, the girls brightened and their story came out in broken English. They had spent months on the ship living from the food that was in the shipping containers. Rice, canned goods, beans and other staples. There wasn’t enough fuel to go anywhere else so they anchored in a bay off the coast of Oregon and just waited. Some of the crew went ashore every few months to gauge how things were going but they never went far and one day they never came back. Five men just disappeared. They watched for days through the binoculars but the life boat stayed where it was, tied to a tree above the tide line. Once spring came and the waters warmed up enough so hypothermia wouldn’t kill him, Ivan had swum ashore to retrieve it.
Armed with only a flare gun, he walked to the nearest town. Zombies still roamed the streets but they were getting slower and slower. He thought that in another year, it would be safe to go ashore. The food they had onboard had gotten boring months ago but there was plenty of it. There were forty foot containers full of noodles and spices and they spent a lot of time fishing.
Then one evening, they saw a campfire. They’d been isolated for so long, so afraid of the unknown, they didn’t signal back, just watched. Even after the camper had gone, they watched for days, fearing a trap. When they finally took the lifeboat ashore, they found the note, the gold coin and hope. The world was rebuilding and now they knew where to go. The three remaining crewmen found the school buses, got them running and loaded up for the long journey. They decided to split up in case something happened. With three groups, the chances were better for at least one of them making it to their destination.
Before the fall, they understood what was expected of them before they got on the boat, before they signed the contracts. They would rather have an arraigned marriage to some lonely American than stay where they were. It was a price worth paying to escape the grinding poverty and dead-end lives of their home countries.
The price was their bodies.
They would cook and clean and share his bed. In return, they would live in a nice house, have plenty of food to eat, wear nice clothes and maybe even get their own car. If their husband was kind, they could send money back to their families. Even a hundred American dollars every month or so would make a huge difference for the ones they left behind. In time, many would even grow to love the man. From where they came from, it was a good bargain. The Russians who ran the smuggling operation were reputable in the seedy world of human trafficking; If you were contracted for marriage, then you got married. Unlike some traffickers, they didn’t pull a bait and switch and force the girls into prostitution or slave labor. There were occasional horror stories to be sure but the Russians were businessmen above all else. They had their reputation to uphold to keep the steady stream of quality women flowing and they did background checks on everyone. They were even known to pay an abusive man a little visit in the middle of the night.
During the months on the ship, they had all learned English from the Russians and Sandy couldn’t help but grin at a Chinese girl speaking English with a Russian accent. She was so glad they had chosen Tombstone as one of the towns, they would settle down some of the wilder cowboys and they’d quit trying to flirt with her. She wasn’t interested in any of them, she was waiting for Jessie to come back.
31
Jessie
They circled back to the last town they’d left a few days before, the walled city on the island. Jessie drove hard, returning on the same route. They knew it was clear, he’d already moved the fallen trees out of the way and remembered most of the places where he had to slow down to maneuver through debris. He wanted to spend the night at the place with the swimming pool where they’d watched movies and fell asleep on the couch. A few minutes with the leaf net and it would be ready for another swim.
Things didn’t go as planned. They had to backtrack and find a way around some flooded roads. They were covered with slow moving, brackish water and although the car probably could have driven through with out drowning the motor, they couldn’t see the blacktop. It could be washed out somewhere and the front of the car could drop down in a ditch. It was well after dark when they found the house in Blackduck again and all four of them were glad to get out and stretch. Bob ran around sniffing the ground but his tail was wagging. He smelled deer or rabbits, not zombies or raiders. There was hardly any ambient light, the clouds were heavy and blotted out the moon and stars. They were both sweaty from moving junk out of the roads on the new path they had to take.
“I’ll get the genny set up if you want to throw together something to eat.” Jessie said
Scarlet nodded and used the flashlight on her phone to dig out some dip and a bag of chips. Simple, quick and light. By the time she had their dinner laid out by the pool, Jessie had stowed the car, ran the extension cord and had the nearly silent running Honda giving them soft music from a stereo and a fan to keep the mosquitoes away. He came out to the deck with drinks from the bottles he found in a cupboard, mixed strong so they would actually feel something from them and breathed deep the night air. They were the only remaining people for miles and miles. Nature was creeping back into the towns, slowly taking over. There were whole generations of animals, deer and racoons, cats and dogs, that had never seen a human or heard a car drive down the road.
“The lightning bugs are thick tonight.” Jessie said, sitting down on the deck, kicking off his boots and dipping his feet in the water.
“Fireflies.” she said after a while, lounging in a deck chair, crunching on the chips and double dipping in the salsa.
He looked over at her, not much more than a shadow in the cloudy night. She was wearing the swimsuit she’d worn the last time they were here. A one piece that was a little too big but covered up some of her worst scars.
“Lightning bugs.” he replied, drinking deeply from the whiskey and water that was mostly whiskey.
“Fireflies.” she said
“The proper Latin name is Maximus Stupidious Scarletimo” Jessie said.
She narrowed her eyes at him, caught the hint of a smile in the darkness and stood.
“Would you like another drink Wettimus Jessius?” she asked as she reached for his glass then shoved him into the pool, pants, guns and all.
He wasn’t ready for it and got the chlorinated water up his nose, came up coughing and wiping the hair from his eyes and caught the tail end of her tinkling laugh as she went into the kitchen to refill their glasses.
“I wanted a bath anyway!” he yelled after her and started stripping off his gear, cursing under his breath and hopping on one foot to get his pants off. He swam to the other side of the pool when she came back out and set the drinks down, rubbing the sweat and dirt off of himself. The water felt good and he felt safe. She’d opened a can of something for Bob and he was wolfing it down. He’d let them know if any undead happened to wander in. Nefertiti was lapping something from a bowl on the table and when he ducked under to clean his hair again, Scarlet was beside him.
He was in the deepest part, the water coming up to his chest and she was standing in front of him, staring up, the water just covering her breasts. The ones without a swimming suit covering them.
“We’re really going to stop him?” she asked in open earnestness. “We’re really not going to let him turn everyone into mindless slaves?”
Jessie swallowed and looked up from the water line, into those fathomless emerald eyes and his mind went blank, no witty sarcasm or half funny jokes. He placed his hand on her arms, her beautiful scarred arms, and gave her the most truthful answer he could.
“We will.” he said.
He didn’t have to swear or promise or cross his heart and hope to die. His word was his bond.
“We might die.” she said.
A plain, simple truth.
“We might.” he answered.
&n
bsp; “I don’t want to die.” she said “I like you, Jessie. I’ve never liked anyone before. I’ve never met anyone that was worth liking. My heart feels funny sometimes when I look at you and I think it must be what love feels like. I tell myself to stop being silly, it can not be love but if it is not, what is it? I wish I had my mother to ask these things or a girlfriend. But I’ve never had one of those either.”
Jessie didn’t know what to say, people weren’t supposed to talk like that, they weren’t supposed to be so open with their feelings. They weren’t supposed to be so honest. He and Porsche never talked about feelings, they just made out whenever they could. He and Sandy never had a chance to talk about anything their one night together and the next time he saw her, she made it real clear she didn’t want him around. Finally, he just said what he felt. Open and honest like her.
“I like you too, Scarlet. A lot, even if I don’t show it. Girls are funny, I don’t know what they’re thinking most of the time. The last time I thought someone liked me, I was wrong. She hated me and I didn’t even know.”
“I tell you what I think.” Scarlet said, still staring up into his blue eyes, still trying to see deep into his soul. “Life is short. I don’t beat around on the bushes.”
Jessie moved in a little closer and she rose to her toes. “You are good man.” she whispered. “You almost died for me. You kill for me. I do the same for you.”
She covered his lips with hers, full and moist and hungry and he pulled her close, feeling her warmth pressed against him. She felt the firmness of his desire and wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him tighter.
Scarred and disfigured forms intertwined as one.
Guilt plagued minds haunted with remorse and regrets recognized each other as soulmates.
Zombie Road (Book 5): Terror On The Two-Lane Page 19