Zepp, J J

by Zombie D. O. A (v5. 0)

  twenty two

  “Close the doors!” Tucci shouted, “Get some furniture in front of them and get those windows shuttered! Virgil, let’s go, there’s got to be a back way!”

  Virgil stood in the middle of the saloon, legs apart like a western gunfighter. He took the vial from his pocket and downed the rest of its contents, “Let ‘em come,” he said, “I’m ready.”

  “Fuck this!” Tucci said and headed for the back door.

  From the front of the room, now came the sound of the high pitched, insanity inducing humming that Z’s tend to make with they’re in a mob. The sound of it set my teeth on edge and for the first time I realized that I was going to die unless I acted fast. I struggled against my bonds and they were fast and secure, cutting into my wrists and sending pain jangling up my arm.

  Virgil was standing in the middle of the room, drawing his six-shooter, firing a shot towards the shuttered windows and then re-holstering. His men were trying to barricade the entrance but they were fighting a losing battle as the doors started to bulge open. I could see hands pushing through, reaching.

  One of the shutters seemed to explode inward, and angry, hungry faces appeared there. Virgil drew his six-shooter and fired in that direction and now his men opened up with automatic weapons. The faces of the Z’s at the window seemed to explode, but as they fell, they were replaced by more and more.

  Tucci came running back into the barroom. “They’re round the back,“ he screamed, “Jesus Christ, they’ve got us surrounded!”

  “Stan,” I shouted at him, but he seemed not to hear.

  One of the Z’s made it through the window and was cut down as another of the shutters flew open. Tucci picked up my AK and fired off a burst, and there was a spray of red against the jagged glass. At the front door the first of the Z’s pushed his head through and got a bullet in the face for his troubles.

  “Stan!” I shouted again, and this time he turned in my direction, my AK in his hand.

  “You!” he said, “This is all your fault! He raised the rifle to his shoulder and I braced myself for the shot. The noise in the room seemed to crank up a notch, and the movement seemed to become slow motion, I could hear the bam-bam-bam of Virgil’s six-shooter, and the clatter of automatic gunfire and smashing glass. Then I heard another sound, the screech of furniture being dragged across a wooden floor, as the barricade started to shift.

  “Wait!” I screamed at Tucci. “I can get us out!”

  Tucci seemed for a moment confused, like a man who’s resigned himself to dying, and then is suddenly thrown a lifeline. He stood and blinked him eyes and then he dropped the AK and ran in my direction and fell to his knees. He produced a switchblade from an ankle sheath and started hacking at my bonds.

  “You better not be fucking me on this, Collins” Tucci said as, from the rear of the building, I heard the crash of back door giving way. Out front the Z’s were gaining a foothold. One of them made it through the barricade. Virgil was reloading and the Z made it to within feet of him before Virgil shot him down.

  I finally felt the bonds on my hands come loose and Tucci pulled me to my feet.

  “Follow me,” I shouted and ran for the office door with Tucci close behind. We made it out of the bar room just as the front doors burst open and the Z’s came pouring in. I pushed the office door shut and pulled down a cabinet in front of it, using my injured hand but not even feeling the pain this time. As I did something crashed against the woodwork and I heard it splinter. On the other side, the guns felt silent and I heard screaming that was soon cut short.

  I kicked the carpet aside, and when Tucci saw the trapdoor, he grabbed the ring and pulled it open. He clambered down the stairs as there was another crash against the door and one of the panels shattered. I could see into the barroom where it looked like a riot was in progress.

  Two Z’s were trying to fight their way past the shattered door into the room. I caught the eye of one of them, a big man, bald headed, with a jagged scar across his face and madness in his frenzied eyes.

  I flew down the stairs and found Tucci, so frantic he seemed not to even notice the scattered boxes of BH-17 around him. “Close the fucking trapdoor!” he screamed. “They’ll get us!”

  “No, follow me,” I said, and opened the bureau door, stepped through and ran into the tunnel. I raced to the end and flew up the ladder with Tucci at my heels. As I reached the top, I pushed up against the trap, then drove my heel backward, catching Tucci square in the face. He fell backward, losing his grip and I hoisted myself into the room and pulled the ladder up after me.

  Looking back into the tunnel I could see Tucci staggering to his feet. “You son of a bitch, Collins!” he shouted, “We had a deal. Drop that ladder down right now.”

  “Sorry Stan,” I said. “Payback for Nate, and Ray and all the other people you’ve murdered.”

  I heard a low growl in the darkness as the first of the Zs entered the tunnel. Then I let the trapdoor back fall into place. Presently, I heard Tucci screaming.

  twenty three

  The sun was already up as I made my way through the mine depot and down to track one. I followed the line through the mountain as Cal had explained and made the split at track two, following that until it exited on the north face.

  Now that the adrenalin was wearing off, the pain was beginning to kick in. My wrist was now a steady throbbing wall of hurt and my ribs felt like I’d been kicked by a mule. My face was sore and puffy and one of my eyes had closed to a slit. A wave of nausea suddenly washed over me and I felt myself sway and almost fall. I realized I hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours.

  In the distance I could see the yellow bus and I felt both relief that they hadn’t left without me and anger that they hadn’t left at sun up, like we’d agreed. I tried to call out and got only a dry rasp. I needed water more than anything else and I started working my way down the path towards the pools at the bottom.

  I felt myself drifting, thinking of Ruby, thinking of Nate and Yonder, thinking of Kelly. At one point I thought I heard a dog barking and was sure I saw Giuseppe come bounding towards me. Then I must have passed out.

  When I awoke, the midday sun was blazing down out of a cobalt sky and I felt like I was being slow broiled. For a moment I wasn’t quite sure of where I was but then my parched throat got me thinking about water and I remembered the pools at the bottom of the hill. I looked out across the field and the yellow bus was gone.

  I made my way down to the riverbed and drank my fill of the sweetest water I’ve ever tasted, before or since. Someone had drawn an arrow in the sand and following it, I found some food stashed behind a rock with a note that read, “Chris, we headed to the place we agreed, like you said. I pray that you and Nate are okay, and that you’ll join us in a day or two. We’ll pray for your safe return, Yonder.”

  The problem was that Whelan was forty miles away, and I was without a vehicle or a weapon. I might find both just over the hill at Pagan, but I wasn’t going to venture into a Zombie infested town unarmed and in my current condition.

  My wrist, of course had to be splinted, and I found a couple of sticks and tore some strips from my shirt to fashion a basic support. It wasn’t great but it would at least immobilize the hand.

  It was almost dark when I set out across the field, following the dry riverbed until I reached the drainage ditch where it passed under the road. I climbed the embankment up to the road surface. It was a moonless night and I was grateful for the cover that provided.

  I headed west towards route 83 and after about half a mile I came across the first evidence of the havoc I’d reeked on the Dead Men with the bus. Had it really been just a week ago? It felt like it could have been a lifetime.

  The road was strewn with destroyed and burnt-out motorcycles and the bikers had also not bothered to bury their dead. I could make out their shapes scattered across the road surface and smell the stench of them, the smell of rancid meat in musty old rooms. Despite what these men re
presented, I felt ashamed that I’d been responsible for this and it got me moving faster along the road.

  Further along, I passed the gas station where we’d stopped before and I left it behind in the darkness as I pushed on. I heard the plaintive cry of a coyote and saw a comet streak westward. My eyes felt heavy and I wanted more than anything to curl up at the side of the road and let sleep take me away from this place. But I kept going, ignoring the throbbing in my hand and the ragged breath that seemed to slash at my parched throat. I may even have slept as I walked, but I kept westward until I reached the junction with route 83. There I found a burned out hulk and crawled into it and slept. For the first time in months my sleep was entirely dreamless.

  twenty four

  I woke with the sun already high in the sky. It was hot in the car and I was drenched in sweat and my tongue felt like it had been cemented to the roof of my mouth. I raised my head and felt my vision swim, and I had to lie down again. During the night I’d rolled over onto my hand and that was throbbing like crazy, keeping time with the pounding in my head.

  Still I had to get up, I had to get moving. Using my left hand I hoisted myself into a half sitting position then got a handhold on the car’s corroded doorframe and pulled myself out. For a moment I thought I might overbalance, but I leaned against the car’s bodywork and steadied myself. Then I pushed away and started walking north.

  In each of us, I believe there is a wellspring of energy, a force that we can call on when we really need it, a force that is likely behind some of the incredible tales of survival you sometimes hear about. Perhaps as a professional boxer I’d learnt to tap that wellspring better than most. Perhaps that’s what kept me alive, I don’t know.

  All I know is I kept going, I fell and I got up, fell and rose again. When I no longer had the energy to walk, I crawled and when even that was beyond me I found shade beside a car and slept.

  I woke to the sound of a dog barking and at first I thought I was imagining it, but then the barking got louder and more urgent, and I saw Giuseppe trotting towards me. I’d never heard Giuseppe bark before, but now he was giving it full voice. Then I heard the sound of someone running.

  “It’s Chris!” I heard Hooley shout, “Jesus Christ, the tough son of a bitch made it.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Cal said, and then I felt Giuseppe licking my face and I drifted into sleep again.

  I woke in a bright place, a room with light pouring in through the window and white linen on the bed. As my surroundings began to come into focus I realized that I was in a hospital ward. There was someone sitting in a chair next to my bed, a very pretty girl with a short boyish haircut.

  My ribs felt as though I’d been through a twelve rounder with the world’s most vicious body puncher and my throat felt like someone had taken a rasp to it.

  “Water,” I managed to say, and the girl in the chair immediately jumped up.

  “Oh Chris, you’re okay. Thank God you’re okay.”

  She hugged me, and I managed a faint, “Ouch.”

  “Sorry,” she said, “So sorry, water, you wanted water.”

  She poured some from the pitcher beside the bed and held the glass to my lips. It was only then that I recognized her.

  “Kelly?” I said.

  “The very same,” she said, then stepped back and did a little spin. “What do you think?”

  “You look…”

  “Different?”

  “Beautiful,” I said.

  twenty five

  Over the next few days I made a quick recovery thanks in the main to the close attention of Yonder. She splinted my wrist and stitched up the gash across my cheekbone, and announced that I’d always carry the scar as a reminder of my run-in with Virgil. My ribs turned out to be badly bruised, but not broken, and in time the bruises on my face began to fade and the swelling lessened.

  I was only in the hospital a day, but in that time I had visits from Hooley and Cal and Alice and of course, Giuseppe.

  “Dang dog saved your life,” Hooley explained, “wasn’t for him, we’d never have found you.”

  Within a week I was itching to get going, but Yonder persuaded me to stick around for a while and I was glad she did. It gave me the chance to check out the town and the fortifications Hooley and Cal had made.

  They’d done a house-by-house clearance of a few blocks, and brought everyone into a tight grid. Learning from our experiences in Pagan, they’d devised some emergency evacuation procedures and Hooley was even talking about putting in some escape tunnels. He’d also begun distributing his arsenal among the townsfolk and setting up lookout posts with machine gun nests. Whoever planned on messing with the citizens of Whelan, whether Z or human, was going to have a fight on their hands.

  One night over a few beers with Cal and Hooley I raised an issue that had been playing on my mind ever since I’d left the Kimberly Saloon with Tucci.

  “I want to go back and get Nate,” I said.

  “Hell yeah,” Cal said, “Me and Hooley’s been saying the same thing.”

  We went in the next day, Alice driving, Hooley working the Browning on the back of the pickup, me and Cal going in to pick up Nate’s body. Many of the Zs were still milling around but that Browning of Hooley’s made short work of them.

  We brought back Pastor Ray too and buried him and Nate side-by-side in Whelan’s Memorial Cemetery. I think Nate would have appreciated the irony.

  On my last evening in Whelan, I stopped by for one of Yonder’s infamous vegetarian meals.

  “I miss Nate,” she said over coffee.

  “Me too.”

  “He was a good man.”

  “The best.”

  “You’re a good man too, Chris Collins.” When I didn’t answer, she said, “You are, and don’t you forget it.”

  “It means a lot that you think so, Yonder.”

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  “I don’t know. This crazy world…”

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Take it as a maybe.”

  “Well, if you’re ever in Whelan” she said, “be sure to look up your friendly vegetarian veterinarian.” She started crying and I held her and wished that there was more that I could give her. I’ve met many people before and since, but very few of them measure up to Yonder Cartwright.

  twenty six

  I left Whelan early the next day. Hooley had provided me with an Audi SUV that he assured me was the “sweetest ride in West Texas”, before adding, “sorry if that sounds unpatriotic.” He’d also insisted on weighing the vehicle down with enough supplies to last three cross-country trips. And he’d even managed to find me another AK, making me promise not to lose this one, before handing it over.

  Kelly went with me, of course. Back in Tulsa Babs had slipped me a photograph, and that had been his way of asking me to complete the mission he couldn’t finish himself. I was determined not to let my old friend down.

  Kelly had finally admitted to me that she had known Babs, that he’d been a friend of her mother and that her mother had even spoken of marrying him. She’d also told me that her mother was at an encampment in Flagstaff, Arizona, which is where we were now headed.

  You’re probably wondering about Giuseppe. That dog had saved my life twice and it shames me to say that I asked Yonder to keep him. Yonder of course, refused. “That dog’s bonded to you,” she said. “I keep him here and he’ll just go wandering off across the prairie. God knows what will happen to him out there.”

  So now Giuseppe sat proudly on the back seat, looking eager to be away. I was glad to have him along.

  We said our final farewells and I slipped the Audi into drive and started rolling forward. In the rearview mirror I could see Yonder and Cal and Hooley and Alice and Jed Junior. Hooley tried to slip his arm around Alice and she shrugged him off, but with less enthusiasm than I’d seen from her in the past.

  I put my foot down on the gas and the Audi started eating up the road. I was goi
ng to find my daughter, and nothing was going to stop me.

  Dead On Arrival

  (Book Four of the Zombie D.O.A. Series)

  by

  J.J. Zep

  PUBLISHED BY:

  JJ Zep

  Copyright © 2012

  www.jjzep.com

  one

  “Kiss me,” Kelly said.

  “What!” I was standing with a face full of soap, trying to shave in the Audi’s side mirror.

  “Kiss me,” she repeated, “It’s my birthday.”

  “Can it wait?”

  “No,” she said, and planted a firm kiss on my lips coming away with soap on her nose, while Giuseppe looked on with his head tilted to one side.

  “I’m eighteen,” Kelly said. “Old enough to become an elected representative in some states.”

  “Probably old enough to become president these days.” I said.

  “President Kelly, I like that.”

  “Well, President Kelly, as your first executive duty, how about rounding up this stuff and getting it in the car so that we can be on our way as soon as I’m done shaving.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kelly said and saluted smartly.

  We were just a day out of Whelan and had spent the night some twenty miles west of Albuquerque, New Mexico. I was hoping to push on today and maybe make Flagstaff by nightfall.

  After Kelly had packed everything into the SUV, I filled the tank with a few of the five-gallon gas cans that Hooley had given us. With the gas cans now used up, I cleared a space in the back storage area to create a den where Giuseppe could curl up and go to sleep.

  Then we got back on the road. It felt good to be moving again, watching the miles slip by and knowing every turn of the wheel was bringing me closer to Ruby. I’d even broken my old rule about staying off the main roads and was now driving directly down Interstate 40, with not too many obstructions and making good time.