“This wasn’t here yesterday,” he said, pointing to a large computer-generated print out.
“No, it wasn’t. It was just taken this morning,” Lisa said as she looked at the image of her and Skit watching the racist group down the street, the flag holder being the only one in view. “Take a look at this and tell me what you think, Skit.”
“Think? What am I supposed to fucking think? Hanging with you has put me right into the sights of the Skinner.”
Lisa nodded her head. She couldn’t argue the point; he was right. Now they were both targets for Skinner and his dehydrator.
***
The horrors of the day were behind them, and Lisa was slipping into the soft chair in her own apartment with a cup of hot black coffee. She was ecstatic when she found not only the power to the building still on, but running water as well. The soldiers had cleared the building and found a couple of refugees on the second floor to be transported to the compound. She and Skit tried to relax as they digested the horrors found in Web’s workshop.
Skit startled her when he suddenly grabbed her hair and started lifting it up off her neck, his trained fingers reminding her of a salon back in Philly.
“You know it is all coming off, don’t you?”
“You don’t have to take it all off,” Lisa protested.
“If you don’t want to look like a goon, I do. Where they shaved for the stitches, combined with all of the Z’s who have yanked on it in the past couple of days, it does.”
She thought about it; from a purely safety point of view, she decided she should lose the hair. Who knows, maybe I’ll like it.
“What the hell, it’ll grow back,” she said.
She leaned back and enjoyed the therapeutic systematic process that soon put her to sleep, which was too bad because she had been looking forward to harassing Skit more. She didn’t know why she felt so comfortable around the former drug dealer who had almost caved in her head, but she did. It was almost like she got him, understood what his intentions were.
***
Skit felt the rhythmic breathing of sleep as he finished her up and looked toward the grungy hounds that decorated her living room floor.
“Tonka, you’re next.”
The dog sat up and glared at him with a low growl. He realized that he had never even come close to touching the police dog before and this might be touch and go, but it had to be done.
“Come on, man. Don’t fight me on this,” Skit pleaded, and with a look of resignation, Tonka headed into the bathroom as his super huge buddy slept.
Skit found multiple bites on the police sergeant and spots where the hide was almost torn that he treated with peroxide and a little iodine. He dried him as best he could before going out and tackling the big boy, who had to be some sort of mastiff. He didn’t know where Tonka had hooked up with the large canine, but they seemed pretty attached. Tonka couldn’t help but get excited as Skit dragged the huge dog by his scruff to the bathroom.
The giant turned out to be nothing but a big baby who licked Skit’s face with his oversized tongue every chance it got.
“Sedgwick, huh?” Skit said as he read the name etched into the tag on his collar. “I think we’ll get along just fine, Sedge.”
The dog rewarded Skit with another tongue cleaning to his face. Drying the beast was not an option; as soon as he was released from the shower, he ran full speed around the apartment.
“Throw your clothes out the door and put these on when you’re done with your shower.” Lisa, who had awoken with the running horse in her living room, handed him a set of sweats. “I am crawling into bed for a while. You can have the couch. There is whiskey or vodka above the sink and there may be a beer in the fridge.”
“Cool, thanks.”
***
The sun rose hot and bright on the third day of the zombie apocalypse. Lisa switched on her radio after her first pot of coffee was ready and ran her hand over her recently shaved head. It was strangely refreshing, and the way the breeze penetrated to her scalp made her feel kind of naked.
She heard the rumble of diesel engines as people from the compound worked to ensure her neighborhood was cleared. It wasn’t an order or anything planned by her; the people cleaning up the neighborhood knew where she was and wanted to make sure she was safe. She thought it was ridiculous, while the people doing it felt it was essential for the survival of Hot Springs. Lisa was their icon, their leader in the minds of the people, and they would lay down their lives for her. Lisa thought she was a sham and really had no say in what happened.
“Art, are ya up yet? Over,” Lisa said into the radio.
A voice came over the radio. “Up yet? Who’s had the chance to go to bed? Over.”
“So are there any status updates? Over.”
“Yeah, unfortunately, we have run into some snags. Almost two thousand showed up at the compound overnight. Luckily, enough of them are soldiers bearing weapons but it’s stretched the hospital pretty thin on everything. Local pharmacies have been raided by both us and fringe groups who haven’t come in yet, so we’re finding it hard to get a lot of what we need, from insulin to antibiotics, over.”
“So what’s the plan? Over.”
“The plan is to send a small force into Little Rock, where there are a couple of big hospitals, to get what we need. We’re discussing the details right now. Over,” Benson said as he looked around the room filled with members from both of the decision-making groups formed the day before.
“I guess I don’t know what you are thinking there, Art. Over,” Lisa said, not realizing that her words were being broadcast to the entire room and anyone else who had a radio that picked up their signal, including Tasha at the radio station.
“What do you mean? We need the supplies desperately. Over.”
“I know that, but if I’ve learned anything from Brett over the last couple of days it’s go big or go the fuck home. Over.” Lisa shook her head at the thought of a small group going into the largest city in Arkansas.
“Excuse me? I think you need to clarify that, Lieutenant. Over.” Lisa didn’t miss the fact that he referred to her by title instead of name; he was pissed at her, but she couldn’t worry about that.
“If one of us goes, Benson, we all go. If we need one resource, we need all resources. Over.”
“I don’t see how that is a possibility, Lieutenant. Over.”
“A few days ago zombies weren’t a possibility, Art. Sending a few specialized personnel into Little Rock would be sentencing half of them to death for the smatterings that could be carried out on their backs. Not a good plan.” There it was, out on the table. “We need to set up a convoy of semi tractors—no trailers because we will find some—and shooters to leave the day after tomorrow. We need to hit that city for everything it is worth. We need food, clothing, skid loaders, and most of all, any survivors. It’s only going to get worse out here and we have to be proactive in acquiring what we need. Resources have a shelf life and at three days into this thing, a lot of those resources have already spoiled. Over.”
“How are we going to do that when we still haven’t secured the city? Over.”
“We’re going to have to manage. Have Brett step up the pace on the Hot Springs recovery. Have Tasha at the radio station put out a call to all survivors and the farmers to accompany us while on the road to Little Rock. We need to set up some major distractions to clear out areas where our people can get in and out unharassed. The task may seem impossible, but we are going to fucking do it, Art. We can’t fuck around with this shit; we have to hit it and hit it hard because zombies don’t understand soft. Any questions? Over.”
“Nope, I think we got it. When will you be back? Over.”
“A couple of hours; we should be able to hitch a ride with one of the Humvees that keep buzzing around my building. Over.”
“Roger that, we’ll see you then. Out.”
Benson turned off the radio and looked around a room filled with grim faces, with the
exception of two. Brett, who had been saying the same thing Lisa just said, had a smile that registered just above a smirk. The other was Krupp, who stood off to the side with one foot propped up on a chair and his arm supporting his leaning body.
“What’s so funny, Krupp?”
“I think I am in love. Damn, that chick must have gone to profanity school or something,” Krupp said, lightening the mood and causing everyone to laugh.
“So you agree with her?” Benson asked.
“Absolutely. We have to start treating things as if we own them and have every right to be there. Little Rock is ours and we gotta let the zombies know it.”
“Okay, how do we do it?”
“Well, we leave most of the equipment operators that we have working here to keep doing what they are doing and leave a few shooters behind, probably locals more than military. Military is trained to fight and move. We start training people to drive some of these bigger rigs today so that we can double up on drivers and bring more semis home. We also have to acquire some ordnance for the distractions we'll need.”
“So you have it all figured out, huh?” Benson said in a relaxed tone. He didn’t feel put down or stepped on. In a way, he knew they were right and was relieved that someone took the ball away from him. There could be over ten thousand refugees hiding away in Little Rock, waiting for the opportunity to escape the dead. Ten thousand refugees and over a million zombies … the odds were not in their favor.
“Why does it have to be ordnance?” Cat asked.
“What do you mean, dear?” Krupp asked his daughter.
“Well, there are several fireworks stores on the outskirts of town. Wouldn’t that help with the distractions?”
“Perfectly, I would think,” Brett added just as the radio buzzed.
“Officer Benson?”
“This is Benson, go ahead. Over,” he said to the voice everyone recognized.
“Hi, this is Tasha from the station,” she said and waited.
“I know that, Tasha. You’re going to have to say ‘over’ so I know when you’re done speaking, okay? Over.”
“Oh shit, I knew that … sorry. I received an email last night from a security guard outside of town. He’s a guard at a high-security distribution warehouse and is trapped by the other guards who’ve turned. It seems that he might have a lot of what we need right there … oh, over.”
“What do you mean a lot of what we need? Over.”
“Well, he doesn’t know what’s in the lockers, and he hasn’t been through the facility, because it’s extensive and he’s not allowed. But it is high security and has some big names on their docket; names like Hornady, Heckler and Koch, and others that might have some things that would be useful. Over.”
“Thank you, Tasha. Was there anything else? Over.”
“Nope, other than I have started a prerecorded loop to start playing over the rape of Little Rock. Over.”
“I would like to hear that before it is broadcast. Also, I don’t think ‘rape’ will be a proper term for this endeavor. Thank you, and out.”
***
“You know, sometimes you might push too hard,” Skit said from under a two hundred pound dog that decided to share the couch with him. Sedgwick and Skit seemed to hit it off, although Skit seemed a little reluctant.
“Why don’t you just stay all cuddled up with your new boyfriend.”
“What, more gay jokes?” he said as he wrestled the dog into allowing him a sitting position. “Well, if I was gay—and I am not saying am—I wouldn’t be spending time with a shedder like him. Damn, I didn’t think short-haired dogs were supposed to shed like this.”
“I wouldn’t know. Tonka is my first four-legged friend,” Lisa replied.
“And already you’re sleeping together … such a slut.”
“Slut? Our relationship is all business, isn’t it boy?” She reached down and ruffled Tonka’s neck.
“So what is the plan today?”
“I don’t know; I guess we should head back and help with the Little Rock endeavor, but I feel like I’m in the way most of the time.” She saw a cloud pass over Skit’s brow. “What is it?”
“What?”
“Something struck you when I said Little Rock. What is it?”
“My kids, they live in Little Rock with their mom. I haven’t seen them in a couple of years, so they probably don’t even remember me but … Well, I would hate to think of them alone and surviving without me trying to get to them.”
“We’ll get them, Skit. If they’re alive, we’ll get them.”
“What about your murderer? Those corpses we saw yesterday were pretty messed up. So … the guy in the picture, Skinner, that’s the guy who fucked with Ally?” Skit asked.
“As far as I can tell. Let me ask you a philosophical question.” Lisa tried to think how she was going to present her question. “Are the acts of a murderer more heinous now, after we have lost so many to zombies, than it was before, or are they less?”
“I guess I don’t get what you’re driving at.”
“I’m not driving at anything really, just asking your opinion. Let me rephrase it; is it more important to catch this guy now, after the apocalypse, or does it just not really matter anymore with all of the death we have all dealt with?”
“Well, it probably doesn’t matter today, but tomorrow when he starts killing again, it’s going to matter, I think,” Skit said, but she could see that he was still thinking on the question. “I don’t know that we’re at a philosophical time in the world right now, Rey.”
“Rey? How the hell did you come up with that?”
“Your name, Reynolds. It just kind of fits,” Skit said.
Lisa pondered what he was saying before she had to agree. “Okay, you can call me Rey but keep it between us. Now, back to the subject. Isn’t it times of duress where philosophy plays a greater role within our lives?”
“In hindsight I think it does, but during … no. During is nothing but run and shoot, it seems. There isn’t much time for deep thought when thirty or forty dead humans want to eat you.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. So what do you want to do? Do you want to head back to the compound and try to help them there or go hunt a serial killer?”
“You’re the boss but we should head back to the station for another broadcast before we do anything.”
“Yeah, what did you say on the radio yesterday?”
“It was nothing, really. Just an old prayer that I remembered.”
“You’re religious?”
“My dad was a reverend in a Baptist church not twenty miles from here.”
“Do you think he survived all of this?”
“Nope. He’s been gone since I was twelve, and Mom … well, Mom has never really been there.” Lisa could tell that it was not his favorite subject.
“Seems to be a common problem with our generation; parents either weren’t there or you wished they weren’t. At least that’s my experience,” Lisa said, thinking that would end the conversation until she noticed Skit’s mind seemed to drift off.
“What’s bothering you?”
“My kids; two boys, one was only eighteen months when they left.”
“I guess we’re going to Little Rock then, aren’t we?”
“I couldn’t ask that of you. For all I know, they’re stumblers.”
“People are our most valuable resource right now, Skitter—yours are no more or less than anybody else’s.”
“Really? We’re going to go get my kids? You are the most beautiful bald chick I have ever seen.”
“Ha! Two boys, huh? I guess you’re not gay then.”
“Hell, honey, that never matters. Anybody can hop a fence now and again,” he said, and stood there looking at her with a broad smile. “Make your move, girl. That is the only way you will ever find out.”
“Fuck you, Skit. Let’s get packed up and head back to the station for another broadcast.”
***
Th
e short respite they had at Lillian’s house didn’t last. They were discussing how they should deal with her body, but in the end, they simply had to leave her where she sat. Almost immediately, zombies started to come up in her front yard, homing in on the small group that seemed to grow every day. Sticking around for a pitched battle in a stick-built house wasn’t Solomon’s idea of a solid plan; they slipped out the back door and ran for several blocks until they had a break where they could hunker down for a minute or two.
“We can’t keep doing this, Dad. My legs feel like they are going to fall off,” Charlie said, somehow knowing his dad wasn’t going to flip out on him in front of everybody.
“Yeah, Dean, we have to find somewhere to get some rest and maybe eat something. We’ve been running for two days straight,” Lester said.
“Okay, I know of a place that will be safe, but it’s a ways from here.”
“How far?” several desperate voices asked.
“Two miles to the train tracks and another three at least to the south,” Solomon replied.
“Train tracks shouldn’t have nearly as many zombies, should it?” Kodiak asked.
“I think that they’re going to follow us wherever we go, or at least they have been. This place has a fence that’s electrified, and we could even steal some vehicles to get there. I got some keys in my pocket for a Cadillac parked not six blocks from here. We should be able to create a diversion to get some vehicles under us,” Dean said, knowing how zombies were attracted to cars or anything that moved.
“Yeah, we need some vehicles. I don’t think I could make it five miles on foot,” Sue added.
“Lester, do you still have that cube van for your woodworking business?”
“Yes, it’s over by my shop, not far from here.”
“Okay, between the Dodge, the Caddy, and your cube van, we might have enough to make it. We hide here until night and make our move.”
Chapter Eight
Tarnished Knight
They were following their path from the night before when they noticed from over a block away that something up ahead had changed. They began to see writing on storefront windows in big, rust-colored, fingerprinted letters of drying blood. The first recognizable word was Skitter Pop. Written below it was Lisa, blood dripping down from the S, and Reynolds hanging below the last P in Pop. Between her first and last name was a giant arrow pointing to the alcove, followed by the words a gift.
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