“That’s terrible!” Brooke said.
“I mean, not really. She didn’t want to get too attached to me knowing that I wasn’t gonna survive. But the nurses had to call me something and put something on the chart.” Sprite smiled to himself at some private thought before continuing. “When mom finally took me home, she officially named me after her pops. That got kinda confusing sometimes, though, so… Sprite it was.”
“I was hoping you like drank soda on the sideline at your football games or something,” Moto admitted.
“I do love me some Sprite,” he laughed. “I swear it’s the taste, not just the name, but no one ever believes me.”
As they set to loading their things back into the truck, officer Sansom explained that he had heard all kinds of rumors about the goings-on around his neighborhood. The area had apparently gone to hell shortly after the outbreak, and the events of that morning were now a common occurrence. It was for that reason that the group gave up on their hopes of hiding out at or even making it to Brooke’s old apartment.
After seeing how quickly the truck’s resources were loaded back inside, they realized just how badly they needed to acquire more in the way of sustenance if they were serious about venturing out into the more desolate countryside. Sprite overheard John and Moto discussing the matter and interjected that he, too, had been working his way over to a nearby neighborhood store to load up on necessities when he’d found them. He had passed by the store the previous night and noted that it had hardly been touched because of the large number of undead trapped inside. Without any formal discussion, Sprite came along for the adventure.
Just as Sprite had described, they pulled up to find that the windows were still intact but filled with the silhouettes of staggering figures inside. In addition to that, though, it appeared that the noise from the trapped zombies had attracted even more to loiter around outside of the small building.
“Wow, I see why no one else has chanced a run at this place,” John said. “You’d have to be crazy to try it.”
“Ah that’s nothing,” Sprite scoffed. “We can handle that, easy. I mean, they’re all so predictable. We’ve just got to plan ahead and execute. As long as we stick to the plan and don’t do anything stupid, I can promise you won’t end up pressing your face against those windows for the rest of time.”
“You make it sound simple, but you kind of skimmed past the part where we come up with the foolproof plan,” Moto said.
“We could probably take out a big chunk of them by just driving through ‘em,” Brooke said.
“The simplicity is good, but you’re leaving too many variables,” Sprite said, stroking his beard. “Why don’t we avoid these guys on the outside altogether? The buildings are all so close, I say we just go rooftop to rooftop and stay off the ground.”
“Wow, I never would’ve thought of that. I love it,” John said.
“And from there, I think I can get us inside,” Sprite said as he reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out Virgil’s axe.
“Believe it or not, we actually have some experience in that part,” Moto said.
Despite Moto’s excitement, John nominated him to stay behind with the girls and left them with a pair of the guns they’d confiscated from the would-be carjackers. He and Sprite then walked down to a short building just a few lots from the store. Just as John had finished searching the perimeters for a fire escape or dumpster, Sprite emerged from a hardware store yielding an aluminum ladder.
“Hardly anything left in there, but apparently nobody wanted to drag this thing around. I figure we can use it to cross buildings without having to jump.”
“Good thinking,” John nodded. “I’m starting to think you might be worth your weight, which is saying somethin’. We might have to keep you around.”
“Oh, no,” Sprite said while holding the ladder for John as he climbed up. “I can’t turn my back on my neighborhood like that. That ain’t me.”
“Well I hope you’ll at least consider coming with us,” John offered as Sprite joined him on the roof. “I hate to lay it out like this, but I’m not sure how long Moto and I alone can keep those girls safe.”
The two pulled the ladder up onto the roof and laid it across to the next building as a make-shift bridge. Even with the other man holding it steady, the ladder wobbled significantly as they crawled over the alleys to each rooftop in sequence. Just as John had gotten comfortable with crawling along at such a height, they’d reached the void that housed dozens of the undead down below. Before they had even finished balancing the ladder to the store’s roof, the zombies had already sensed their presence above and began to growl and reach for the two with an insatiable blood lust.
“Don’t even let ‘em bother you. It doesn’t matter that they’re down there or that they see us,” Sprite comforted. “We didn’t fall before, and there’s no reason for us to fall now.”
It sounded like empty encouragement to John when the words were spoken, but once he’d crossed the gap, he realized that the words had played a big part in his steady movements. While Sprite heaved the axe over to him, John tried to reciprocate the edifying energy to Sprite as he too crossed over, and the larger man also arrived without incident.
Once they had broken through the roof, and were able to see into the shop, the men realized that there weren’t as many zombies trapped inside as they had anticipated. Sprite lowered the ladder down to the floor between two shelves, and John began his descent with axe in hand. They had guns available if necessary, but preferred not to use them if at all possible. For all they knew, the outside zombies would be able to push through the narrow separation of glass if they were to be further provoked. John was amazed at how easily he was able to climb down to the concrete flooring, and calmly held the ladder while Sprite came to meet him. The two worked into a pattern of snatching the most useful of items into their bags, and then resurveying their surroundings. Occasionally, one would incapacitate an approaching zombie, and then the ritual would continue. Before long, they had collected everything they had hoped to, and calmly climbed back up to the roof, over to the adjacent buildings, and finally back down to meet up with the others.
John and Sprite separated the supplies evenly for their own group’s bounty, but Sprite attempted in vain to sneak food back into John’s pile when John’s back was turned. The only disagreements came when one would argue that the other was in more dire need of a certain commodity.
“Just take it,” Sprite said when they disagreed over who would keep a large bundle of antibiotics. “I haven’t used that many z-packs in all my thirty years, and I doubt I ever would in the however many I got left.”
“What about your family?” Hillary chimed in. “Won’t they need medicine?”
It wasn’t until then that John realized that Sprite had been bargaining goods for only himself during the entire negotiation. John and Sprite both contemplated Hillary’s words silently for a moment while Sprite dodged the question.
“You don’t have anyone left do you? You’re on your own,” Moto said.
“Listen, you don’t have to concern yourself with me,” Sprite responded. “I’ve got more than I’ll ever need here, and I’m plenty capable. I’ll be fine.”
“Ok, I don’t doubt you could survive, but what if you can help all of us and help yourself in the process?” John asked. “Is it really worth just surviving here all alone for the sake of surviving and being able to say you didn’t give up on the neighborhood? I’m sorry man, but this neighborhood has given up on itself.”
“God, why am I such a bad liar?” Sprite asked. “For being a cop and hearing lies all day, every day from people, you’d think I’d be better at it. To be honest, I’d already given up hope for this city--and every other city for that matter. After losing everyone...” he trailed off.
“Maybe we were the last ones that you were supposed to stay behind and protect,” John said.
“Let’s go make a fresh start somewhere,” Moto inte
rjected. “We can build our own something worth defending.”
“You’re right. Deep down, I know you’re right,” Sprite said. “I guess it just feels like quitting to me, and I never quit before.”
“No one can make the decision but you,” John said, “and I don’t mean to pressure you, but it’s easy for me to see that this doesn’t even resemble giving up. Going with us wouldn’t make life easier, taking on more mouths to feed, and whatnot. Quitters find ways to justify the easy. The low, broad road if you will.”
“I didn’t have you pegged for a spiritual guy,” Sprite said.
“I’ve been exposed to it. I like a lot of the main points it communicates for sure. I’ve just always been too much of a control freak to admit that someone or something else is more in control of my life than I am. Oh, and I hate churchy people. They’re the worst.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t let some bigots represent God for you any more than you’d let well… how about this. Don’t blame God for things that people have done. The churches that God created as hospitals to sinners have been turned into museums for the dead. What I mean is you don’t get to blame everything crappy on God just because it’s convenient. God is consistent even when I’m not. And especially when I’m failing miserably at getting my point across.”
“Not to encourage you to keep trying, but you’re probably right. I just don’t see how you can keep the faith considering what’s going on around us.” John motioned to the bodies strewn about the street.
“Well maybe we can dig a little deeper into that later,” Sprite said with a slanted grin.
“Does that mean you’re in?” Moto asked.
“I mean, if you guys are sure… absolutely. I don’t want to invite myself along before you all have a chance to discuss it or anything like that.”
“Hell no, man,” John said. “We’d be lucky to have you around.”
“Well I guess that’s that.” Moto grunted while loading Sprite’s share of goods back into the truck. “But I’m warning you now; no Christian music.”
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Moto continued on with his numerous ex-girlfriend stories long after the group had grown bored of his attempt to entertain.
“Yeah, man she was something else,” Moto said with a slight frown. “Despite everything, I still look back on our time together as some of the best days of my life.”
“Aw, I doubt any of my exes would say that about me,” Brooke said.
“That’s always tough, man,” Sprite comforted. “It sounds like she set the bar pretty high.”
“Actually, the last one was my favorite,” Moto smiled. “Pro tennis player.”
John glanced up at Moto in the rearview mirror with a confused look. Moto opened his eyes wider toward the mirror in a way that said not to interrupt.
“No kidding, a pro tennis player?” Sprite asked with a raised inflection that suggested he was either impressed or suspected a lie.
“Yeah, that’s the one that really broke my heart,” Moto said seriously, before adding with emphasis. “It was like love meant nothing to her.”
A groan rose up from the front of the car, while Moto laughed hysterically.
“Wait, were any of those stories true, or did we just endure this 10 minutes of rambling so you could set up a stupid joke?” Brooke asked.
“What? I don’t get it,” Hillary said.
“Oh, come on,” Moto defended. “If we have anything, it’s spare time.”
“He’s got a point,” Sprite said, still chuckling.
“In that case, I’ve got one too,” Brooke said. “It might even come in handy for getting food somewhere down the road.”
“I can already tell this is gonna be good,” John said with renewed interest.
“I’m going to teach you the best way to catch a polar bear.” she said.
“This is gonna come in handy down the road?” Moto asked.
“Shut up, you had your turn,” Brooke scolded. “It’s actually really easy. You dig a hole in the ice and lay several green peas around its perimeter. Once it’s all set up, you just hide and wait nearby until a bear is finally curious enough to come investigate. Finally, when the polar bear bends over to take a pea, you kick it in the ice hole.”
The truck erupted in laughter, including Moto’s, despite his bitterness for having been outdone.
“I still don’t get it!” Hillary protested.
“Well, Brooke didn’t say it quite right,” Moto started. “It’s supposed to sound like she’s saying…”
“Moto!” John interrupted. “Shut up. She’s just a little girl!”
“Ohhh,” Hillary laughed. “You mean asshole!”
Brooke showed John a nervous grin that caused him to conceal his face from Hillary, though his entire torso visibly bounced with muffled laughter. Sprite tried to help in correcting Hillary about what words aren’t nice to say, but he too lost his composure when the others all continued on with their snorting and chuckling.
As if the cruel, new world couldn’t allow for such innocent joy to take place any longer, one by one each person’s laughter was subdued into a horrified sense of awe. Just the type of inhumane cruelty that they had been attempting to evade was unfolding right before them.
From what they could tell, it appeared that a young, muscular man had flagged down a passing car that was driven by an older man and his wife. The old man was outside of his car and motioning his hands as if trying to explain something. When the group’s truck rolled up on them, the dog began barking with a ferocity that none of them had yet witnessed. The young man glanced up at the approaching truck and pulled out a previously concealed handgun, firing several rounds toward the old man as he attempted to flee. The shooter leaned into the driver’s seat of the car but resurfaced only seconds later to open fire on the woman before grabbing what he could of their belongings and fleeing. After he’d sprinted several yards, most of the stolen items had fallen from his grasp scattered across the pavement behind him. John was considering speeding toward the thief until the man dropped most of what remained clutched to his chest in order to point his gun toward their speeding truck. Seeing this, John slammed on the brakes and everyone remained ducked down beneath a hail of powdered glass until John eventually peeked out and announced that the man was gone. Only a few bullets had penetrated the windshield, and none appeared to have struck anyone. Brooke checked Hillary up and down for injuries before simply squeezing the little girl to her chest. John sprinted from the truck toward the old couple’s car with Sprite and Moto following close behind.
Beside the car, it was apparent that the husband was going to die. He had been struck by one bullet in the neck and lay lifelessly against the front quarter-panel, bleeding profusely. The bullet had struck an artery that now spewed blood across the fiberglass with each beat of his heart. The wife, however, was conscious and moaning.
“Why, why?” she muttered repeatedly.
The elderly woman desperately pressed one hand against her chest as blood drained out from between her fingers without resistance. Even with the supplies the group had recently acquired, they weren’t optimistic that there was anything they could do to save either of the two. Knowing this, they still sprang into action. John pulled out some blankets from the back seat and laid them out on the asphalt while Moto and Sprite went to pull the old woman from the car and lay her down where they could more easily attend to her injuries.
Amazed that the man’s heart was still beating, John unsurely placed his hand across the man’s wound to try and slow the bleeding. Sprite unbuckled the woman and lifted her from the car. John considered sliding the old man into a more comfortable resting position but feared that laying him down would just rush more blood toward the gaping hole in his neck. John instead began wrapping bandages around the wound, but despite his best efforts, the bleeding continued unabated. Soon, the man’s head slumped lifelessly. It was obvious he was gone.
Sprite and Moto continued attending to
the woman and did their best to block the view of her deceased husband while fighting in vain to calm her enough to slow the bleeding.
Seeing that there wasn’t much he could do to help with the now widowed woman, John decided to bury the old man’s corpse in a section next to the road that had already been dug out for utility work. After getting the body covered with one slight layer of dirt, John was surprised when Brooke appeared next to him offering to help.
“I hate to do nothing,” she said. “And I’d much rather be over here with you than having to watch that poor woman die.”
“Not a fan of blood?” John asked.
“No, it’s not that at all,” Brooke said, gesturing to Hillary where she sat on the curb. “I just wanted there to be some level of censorship before I brought this one over with me. I’m sure as heck not gonna leave her alone in the truck after all that.”
John heard a different tone in his brother’s voice and listened in more intently. Apparently, the old woman was doing better as she appeared to be communicating with Moto while Sprite loaded some of the items from her car into the group’s truck. John thought it was slightly odd, but he trusted Sprite’s good judgment and elected to finish transferring dirt into the fresh grave.
Brooke and John talked as they worked while Hillary scribbled in her spiral notebook that would commonly emerge whenever she had any down time. John caught himself feeling something resembling guilt for the significant amount of joy he felt when talking with Brooke as they buried a man a few paces from his suffering wife. It’d started as his defense mechanism for trying to soften the horrific nature of the situation around them but had quickly developed into what he would later consider to be one of the best conversations he’d ever had with a woman--not that he could recall exactly what the conversation consisted of.
After several minutes of digging, John noted a new smile that would occasionally appear on Brooke’s flawless, though sweaty, face at certain stages of their talk. It wasn’t the smile that she typically used on Moto or when playing with Hillary. It was a smile that he hadn’t seen from her before; one that carried all the way up to her paralyzingly green eyes. John did his best to make mental notes of what he’d done to earn these first genuine smiles from Brooke and made it his mission to find as many of them as he could in the future.
And the Blood Ran Black Page 17