by Adam Sifre
Annie doubled over and gulped air in ragged gasps. She forced herself to look closer at the man. He was covered in blood. His face was little more than a red mask.
"Jon?" Her eyes involuntarily traveled down his body and settled on what was left of his cock. She turned and vomited.
"Oh God," she gasped. "Jon. Jon, is that you?"
A hand settled on the back of her neck and she screamed.
"I'm right here, baby."
"Oh, thank God." Annie turned and the flood of relief froze. He was wearing a blood-spattered green jumpsuit - scrubs, they're hospital scrubs - and he was smiling, tiny red dots decorating his upper lip.
"Jon. What? I don't understand."
"I know."
Still smiling, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and started dragging her to the empty table. She wept and she screamed. It took forever and no time at all, and then she was on her knees at the foot of the table.
She grabbed on to his legs and she begged.
He crouched down until he was eye to eye with Annie, his hand still holding tightly to her hair.
"Shh. It's okay, baby. Everything is going to be okay."
But of course, it wasn't.
Chapter 37
Table Talk
After cleaning up the remains of Annie and Jerry, Jon made himself a sliced steak sandwich with a side of delicious sweet potato. He even treated himself to a cold beer from a case kept in the trunk of his car, using it to wash down a couple of Vicodin, courtesy of Mayor Biggie himself.
Bought and paid for. With a fine meal under his belt, Jon grabbed the car keys, a pistol and his knife.
"Okay. Timmy Time."
A few minutes later he parked outside Timmy's house, glancing casually up and down the street, checking for zombies and other witnesses. Gun and knife tucked safely away for the moment, Jon made his way to the front door. It opened before he had a chance to knock or fix his smile firmly in place.
"Mr. Tanner -" Timmy looked both worried and relieved.
"Hiya, Timmy. How are things?"
"Well, um, okay I guess. Vi ... that is, Mom's sleeping right now ..."
Jon smiled inwardly. Doesn't trust me. Smart kid.
Jon stood close to Timmy, his breath steaming in the cold December air. "She's not sleeping, Timmy. At least upstairs she's not. Can I come in? We have some things we have to talk about."
Timmy's eyes widened in surprise. "How do you know she's not here? I mean, why do you think she's not here?"
Jon reached out and put a hand on Timmy's shoulder. "Because I know where she went, son." He smiled. "Now, are you going to invite me in or are we going to stand out here like a couple of nutsicles?"
The boy smiled. The world might be burning but that doesn't stop a twelve year old boy from appreciating a good nut joke.
"Um. Yes, sir. Please come in."
Jon could see he was still cautious but Timmy was a good boy and in the end politeness trumped caution. Once inside, Jon followed Timmy to the kitchen. The boy purposely averted his eyes when they passed the TV room. There were still signs of last night's hootenanny on parts of the walls.
Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Jon rubbed his tired eyes.
"Listen, son. I've been trying all morning to think of an easy way to say this. Trying and failing. So I'm just gonna come out and say it. Your mother's gone, Timmy."
Timmy sat across from Jon, fishing through a box of KABOOM Cereal.
"I know. She wasn't here when I woke up. I thought maybe she was, well you know, maybe she was with you. She doesn't usually leave the house. I go out when we need stuff." A deep blush bloomed across the boy's face. "She must have gone to see Mayor Hart, then."
Jon smiled to himself. She was spreading her legs for Mayor Biggie and the kid knows it. If the Mayor had a real hard-on for Annie, that might turn into a problem. Good thing I'm heading out for parts unknown.
"What I mean is, she left. She left and I don't think she'll be coming back."
"She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't leave without me. I mean, she hardly leaves the house these days. No way would she leave town."
Jon leaned forward to scratch his leg and deftly unsnapped the knife sheath strapped to his ankle.
"She's gone, Timmy, and so is Sunshine. I'm a betting man and it's a sure thing that they left together."
"That doesn't make any sense. She hardly even knows him. I think we better go talk to Mayor Hart." Timmy stood up and Jon, his hand hidden by the table, slid the knife partway free from the sheath.
"Sit down." Jon studied the boy as he looked around the room, evidently confused.
"Mayor Hart will know what to do. She wouldn't -"
"Sit, down." He said it soft and slow and gentle, but his eyes were hard. Timmy didn't sit, but he didn't leave either. "There's more that you need to hear." Jon patted the tabletop with his free hand. "Please." Timmy reluctantly took his chair. "You might remember that Sunshine and I only met a few days before coming to Deerkill. He seemed like a good egg at the time - just another survivor, like you and me."
"I guess. But what does he -"
"Sunshine is an addict, Timmy. I wish I could say I didn't know about it, but the truth is I saw him getting high several times. Mostly on cocaine and weed, but I'm sure he had other stuff." Jon saw comprehension and sadness in Timmy's face. "I blame myself for bringing him here. If I'd known he and your mom would find each other ..."
"Stepmom," Timmy said woodenly. "She's my stepmom."
"I know, son. And I know you love her. She's a good woman and she's easy to love. I saw that right away. But I saw something else about her, Timmy. And I think you see it too."
Timmy stared at his hands. "I know she needs pills and stuff. Sometimes she sends me out ..."
"It's a hard habit to break, I can tell you. And Sunshine, he was a little sweet on your mom - stepmom."
"I don't know ... I don't know what to do now." Timmy looked at Jon. "What should I do?"
Jon eased the knife back into the sheath and leaned back in his chair. "I think I may know where she's heading. I have an idea, at least."
Timmy leaned forward.
"Where?"
"Last night after you went upstairs, we got to talking. We'd polished off a fair amount of wine, to tell the truth. I think she was feeling no pain, if you know what I mean. She started talking about these crazy dreams she kept having recently ... dreams about a postman."
Timmy gasped and jumped up from the chair. "A postman?"
"And zombies … and some kind of rock. She was pretty drunk. We both were. But she seemed convinced that if she found that postman she might find her husband. I didn't think too much of it at the time, but maybe ..."
"She's going WEST. She's going to help Dad!"
Jon feigned surprised. "How could you know that?"
"I have the same dreams. There's a postman. But he's a zombie now, and he's glowing. I mean, there's a rock in his head and it's glowing. They're in Colorado. A place called Comfort. And in my dream I know that rock can help my dad. She's had the same dream. She didn't leave me for drugs. She left to get Dad."
Jon said nothing, allowing Timmy to believe his own lie. "I suppose that's possible," he said doubtfully. "I didn't think much of it at the time, but if you're telling me you had the same dream ...?"
"Yes. I have it all the time. We have to get her, Mr. Tanner. We have to help her. That rock - it's a meteorite - is important. Not just for my dad, either. I can feel it. We have to go there. We have to."
"I don't know, son. I like you and I really like your stepmom. But we've just met, more or less. Going all the way to Colorado based on a spooky vision ... I don't know."
"Please. I need to get there and I can't go by myself. Please, Mr. Tanner. I know it's not your mother and father, but you need to be there. I just know it." Timmy looked down at the floor. "I have to go, either way."
Jon smiled. "If I do go, there are going to be rules and you need to follow both of them, Timmy."<
br />
Timmy looked up, hope flashing in his eyes.
"Anything."
"That's exactly right, Timmy. Rule number uno, you do anything and everything I tell you to do. I don't want to end up dead because some kid zigged when I said zag."
Timmy nodded in agreement. "Anything and everything you say. Sure thing, Mr. Tanner."
Jon leaned forward and held his hand out to Timmy. "And rule number two, call me Jon. Deal?"
"Deal." Timmy smiled in relief, and shook hands with the devil.
Chapter 38
Old Time Religion
Like a lot of people, Sunshine woke up in a state of confusion and, also like a lot of other people, he woke up in church. That's where the similarities ended.
He was lying spread-eagled on the floor between the first rows of pews, hands and legs each tied to a bench. Weak sunlight streamed through a large stained glass window almost directly above him. Colored in mostly greens and blues, the stained glass depicted a stormy ocean, tossing a small boat filled with men. Since there was no whale, he assumed it was meant to depict Jesus and his apostle pals taking a break from spreading the Word and spending the day fishing. The rest of the room was dark, and had an empty feeling.
How did I get here?
The last thing he remembered was sharing a drink with Jon and the Mayor. He pulled weakly at his restraints, accomplishing nothing more than aggravating the wound on his ankle.
At least it's not infected. Could have woken up as a zombie. Things could be worse.
A low moan from somewhere in front of him assured Sunshine that things were indeed worse. He lifted his head as far as possible, but couldn't see much of anything. He was able to make out the altar. A small table covered in purple and gold cloth, empty except for a silver chalice and a book, presumably the Bible. An American Flag hung on a small pole to the right. Behind the altar he could see the standard large wooden crucifix, with Jesus nailed firmly in place. He was missing his crown of thorns and one of his shoes.
Shoes?
Sunshine wasn't a religious man, and even if he were he would have been a religious Jewish man. But he was certain Jesus on the cross wasn't supposed to be wearing black shoes … or jeans.
"What the -?"
Jesus moaned. Sunshine screamed. The thing on the cross struggled and Sunshine could see that the hands and feet were indeed firmly nailed into place. One hand was almost completely severed. There was a crow sitting on its shoulder, occasionally dipping its beak in the side of the thing's cheek. The bird tugged at a stringy treat and Sunshine felt his gorge rise.
"Jesus!"
"Braaiinns," Jesus answered.
Sunshine heard a door open and what sounded like several people enter the church, but he couldn't turn his head far enough to see.
"Help! Someone help me." Because I'm sure these fine people have nothing to do with me being here.
Jesus became agitated and started hissing and moaning, causing Sunshine to become agitated too. He could hear people moving behind him, taking their seats, murmuring what sounded like polite greetings.
"Untie me please. I just want to leave."
A man walked up to the altar. Sunshine could see that he was barefoot, but otherwise neatly dressed in black.
"Hey ..."
A hand grabbed Sunshine's head and stuffed a piece of cloth in his mouth. He tried screaming for a few seconds, but soon the need to breathe overcame the need to shout.
The man in black spoke to the room. "Peace be with you."
The congregation responded. "And also with you."
"Yesterday unbelievers came to me, seeking passage through the tunnel. A man spoke about needing to go west. He claimed he had a vision."
Sunshine heard the crowd murmur, and someone behind him whispered.
"The undead summon and the remnants respond."
The man in black wiped his forehead on his sleeve.
"He would not tell me anything more about his vision. But we know what he saw, don't we, brothers and sisters? We know where he's going."
The crowd grew louder. "Praise Him," someone shouted. "Praise the rock."
Sunshine vainly pulled at his restraints. He might not have any visions, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't like where this was going.
"The SOURCE! He wants the SOURCE!" the man shouted, flinging his hands into the air. The audience answered with their own cries, and he waited for quiet to resume.
"There's a storm coming, brothers and sisters. It's coming and there's nothing that I, you or anyone else can do to stop it. This man, this dreamer, is part of it. That much I know. And who are we to deny what must be?" More murmurs.
"But even so, there's a price that has to be paid … always a blood price. We need a savior." The man picked up the American flag and jabbed it at the thing on the cross, eliciting a soft, angry moan.
"Our savior is just about all used up. We need a new shepherd."
"Amen."
Sunshine redoubled his efforts to free himself from the restraints, eyes wide with fright.
"We need a new guardian of the night."
Sunshine heard what sounded like clanking and rattling.
Chorus: "Protect us from what we cannot see."
"We need a messenger from the Light and the Dark."
The cross started to lean forward, and Sunshine could now see that it was supported by heavy metal chains.
Chorus: "An angel to keep the dead at bay."
Sunshine screamed against the gag as the cross was lowered, the top half slowly coming closer to him.
"A Lazarus to rise again and keep watch."
No, please.
Chorus: "Let the dead walk on by."
The large crucifix kept on coming, and by the time the thing came face to face with Sunshine, his screams echoed throughout the church, gag or no gag.
Chapter 39
Tunnel Vision
"Eeny, meeny, miney, moe." Jon stretched his back, working out the kinks from the long drive.
They stood before the twin bores known as the Eisenhower Tunnel. Even in the bright midday sun he could barely see more than twenty yards into either.
"These tunnels go right through the Continental Divide," Timmy chirped. Jon shot the kid an annoyed look.
"What?"
"These mountains are almost solid granite. They divide North America right down the middle. The tunnels go through the mountains so that you go in on one side of the Continental Divide and come out the other."
"My very own post-apocalyptic Google," Jon muttered. "I don't suppose you know how long these tunnels are?"
"Almost two miles."
"Fuckin' yay."
Timmy gave him a disapproving look, which Jon easily ignored. From what he could make out, a few abandoned cars stood on the road before the entrance ways and just inside. Plenty more where those came from, I'm sure.
Jon walked back to the car and fished out their backpacks and the shotgun.
"We hoof it from here." He threaded the shotgun through the two cloth loops on the larger pack, making sure it was secure but loose enough to ensure quick access in case of emergency. "At least until we're out of the tunnel." He handed Timmy the other backpack. "Flashlight's in the front pocket there."
Jon was happy to see the kid's enthusiasm noticeably cool at the news.
"Why aren't we driving?" Timmy stared doubtfully at the tunnels.
"Too dangerous and too slow." Jon donned his backpack, adjusting the straps a bit.
"From the looks of things, these tunnels are going to be filled with abandoned wrecks and God knows what. I doubt we'd be able to make our way through in the Escalade."
Timmy swallowed.
"I don't see why we don't at least try -"
Something crashed to the ground and they both spun around. Two zombies were on the move, about a hundred yards away. Well, one was moving. The other was on the ground, entangled in a wooden saw horse meant to warn traffic away from a rather large pothole.
Jon drew his revolver and started toward the undead pair. It had been a long, dull morning and dusting a couple of corpses might be just what the doctor ordered. He was twenty feet away and pausing to take aim, when he saw the others. A lot of others. Couple of dozen, at least. They were shambling more or less in their direction.
He reluctantly put the gun back in his waistband and turned round to Timmy. "Time to -"
Timmy was already halfway to the tunnel.
Jon chuckled. "No need to run. Our friends aren't going to be winning any marathons." I should take the other tunnel. Let the little bastard walk alone for a while. The thought made him smile. I bet that pretentious little shit would come out the other side a new person. Let's see how much he loves the Eisenfuckinhower Cunintental Divide then.
He started after Timmy, refusing to run. And then he heard the pitter patter of little feet.
There were six of them, all children. All dead. And they were running. They were running fast. By the time Jon started running, the pack leader, a lanky girl with filthy blonde hair and dead eyes, was only about seventy yards away, and she was hauling ass. Jon ran faster.
Long seconds later he was cursing himself for smoking and eating Arby's, and the girl and the others were maybe fifty yards behind. Six children running as fast as they could without making a sound. No screaming. Not even the sound of breathing. Just the sound of small feet hitting pavement, announcing they were getting closer.
By the time he reached the tunnel, the harsh roar of his labored breathing drowned out everything else. As he was enveloped in darkness he felt the hairs on his neck stand at attention. Two miles. Fuck. Me.
Not daring to turn around for fear of tripping, he kept running. They couldn't be more than a few yards behind him.
How are they moving so fast?
Deciding to risk a quick look over his shoulder, Jon ran smack dab into an SUV. The collision knocked the wind out of his lungs and sent him sprawling backward, landing flat on his back.
All thoughts of zombies forgotten, he lay on the dark asphalt, mouth opening and closing like a fish in a futile attempt to suck in air. When a small hand grabbed at his shirt, poor Jon could hardly manage a squeak.