He poured another shotglass full and dropped it into Red Wolf's beer. He pushed the mug toward his companion.
Red Wolf pushed it back.
"I'm willing. When do we leave?"
"Day after tomorrow."
Red Wolf nodded, once. Jake lifted the mug to his lips, tilted his head, and drank.
"Done," he said, slamming the mug back on the table.
4.
Jake moaned. From horseback, he waved his hand at Red Wolf riding near him. The other man handed him the clear, two-liter soda bottle tied with twine.
Raising the bottle to his lips, he took a swig of the liquid, swished it around, then spat it out.
"Damn, Red, that's some nasty stuff."
"Doc said you need to wash your mouth with saline solution."
"It hurts."
"All pain is temporary."
Jake lifted the bottle and repeated the process again.
"So's all pleasure. My whole damned head feels like it's gonna explode."
"It's the infection. Or the hangover."
"If it exploded, it might make me feel better."
The wagon trundled behind them on silent rubber wheels, heavy with stale tobacco, pickles and cheap scotch whiskey. A five hundred pound bail of cattle fencing was the best they could find. They'd siphoned almost three hundred gallons of gasoline from a station near Perryville.
The horses drawing the wagon frothed at the mouth. They'd discovered a motorcycle shop after much effort, only to find it devoid of any riding gear save one kevlar riding jacket, a pair of boots and a few helmets. A Indian souvenir shop provided thirty pounds of cured leather for clothing and further armoring, plus a large haul of still good pemmican.
Miller, Sunseri and Ransom rode bait while Jake and Red Wolf led the procession. Simmons sat high in a bucket seat, perched atop the plywood wagon, a shotgun across his knees.
Man-sized saplings and Johnson grass veined the highway. Cottonwoods and birch ran up against the road which resembled little more than a game-trail through the countryside.
"All stop!" Simmons called from his perch. "Herd's breaking up. It's just too big to stay together in these woods!" He spat over the rim of the wagon. "Jake, take Silent back there and help with the bait. I'll keep watch on our frontside."
"We can't stay sitting here too long. Hear that?"
The sound of the herd was a dull roar.
"We're drawing em in from all over! We got over three hundred now."
"The council didn't put you in charge of this foray. They put me. I'm not gonna place any man nor horse at risk, okay?"
Jake yanked on reins, pulling his mount's head toward the wagon, where Simmons sat staring at him. "I know the council wants us to do our best to clear out the state of what revs we can. But we can't stop now. Maybe nearer the Ponderosa we can rest again."
"It ain't resting Jake. At this point, the herd's hit the point of no return. We gotta bring em in. If we don't bring them into the races, they might just wander around in a cluster and hit one of the fenced-in fields. Those chain-link fences'll keep out the onesies or twosies, but they'll fold with a herd like this battering."
Jake rested his hand on his pistol-grip and kicked out his hip, thinking.
"Damnation. I hate to admit it, but you're probably right."
Simmons smiled. "Hell has frozen over."
"Why'd we name it after Bonanza?" Red Wolf cocked his head curiously.
Miller, who had moved up near the conversing men, snickered at the name.
Jake glared at the man. "Everybody thought it was funny. I loved that show. There's worse ways of naming a town."
Simmons adjusted his shotgun in his lap. "How'd you even see it? It was off the air when you were born in...what? '75? '80?"
"'71." He laughed, making a short barking sound. "I guess I'm just well preserved."
"Pickled is more like it."
"My dad had it on Betamax. Remember those? Shit, I wanted to be Hoss so bad."
"Yeah. I remember Betamax. They lost the format war with VHS."
The men fell silent, thinking.
Jake said, "I'm gonna dig up a DVD player or something and make em start having movie night back at town." He rubbed his jawline. "We need something. Something to remind us of...the good times. Of being normal."
"I think that's a good idea," Simmons said, looking off into the brush. "Except it might remind folks how far we've fallen. And finding gas for the gennies ain't as easy as it used to be. Despite this nice haul. Probably be a bonus waiting for us." He nodded at the men's smiles. "Heads up."
A pair of zombies crackled through the brush in front of them, pushing long grass and branches aside.
Miller withdrew a billy-club from his belt and Jake reached over and grabbed a baseball bat from the wagon bed.
"Back to business, gents."
***
Red Wolf and Jake rode bait. The stench from hundreds of walking dead behind them filled the air, even though they rode into the wind.
"God, this is a miserable damned detail," Jake said.
His companion nodded, rubbing Dharma's neck. The highway rose from the country surrounding it, giving the two a clear view of the area. The sun had begun to slide down the western vault of sky.
"You're taking this little jaunt calmly, Red. You hoarding Xanax?"
"No. Thinking."
"What gives?" He reined in, looking back over his horse's rump at the oncoming herd. The three hundred zombies had grown to four, easily. Their lowing swelled their ranks, drawing others from the surrounding countryside. The men were a hundred yards away. The mob of undead moved like some enormous, gray-green amoeba, sloughing off bits of itself and drawing them back in. The herd was sixty yards deep and spilled over the side of the highway, into the brush. They could hear the crack and snap of branches as the off-road revenants made their way toward them.
Jake turned to look at the wagon cresting the rise. Miller and Sunseri sat watching. Miller gave a little girl wave, high and mincing, made absurd by his heavy gloves.
"In the Smithsonian, there's a room they keep the bones of every tribe of Indian. They keep it perfectly cool, and dry, and the bones...they've analyzed, weighed, and measured them. They've catalogued and cross-referenced them."
"Yeah? So?"
Red Wolf was quiet for a long while.
Finally, he said, "So. What were they looking for?"
Jake took a swig from the two liter bottle of saline, grimaced, swished the liquid in his mouth, and spat.
"No clue, Red. There's probably revs gnawing on them bones now, if they got stuck down there." His horse nickered, rearing its head. The herd approached. Jake inspected his rifle and nodded for Red Wolf to check the load on his pistol.
"So what happened, huh? For you to be so looney-tunes? They get...they get your family?"
Red Wolf said, "She went to the grocery and took the kids. Amy. Gretch."
"Oh. Shit."
"But they came back home, after." He looked away, shook his head.
"It's a goddamned monster of a world."
"It's humanity. But, in death, we remove our masks. Show our animal natures."
Jake spat again.
"That's horseshit. Your nature is your nature. Some folks are shitheads. Some are sweethearts. All this philosophizing ain't good for you."
They fell silent and watched as the herd drew closer, lowing heavily. Red Wolf tied a bandanna across his mouth and nose to keep the stench out. The herd had grown so large after swinging through west Little Rock that it was hard to see the rear of the mass from their vantage. A sea of reanimated dead, shambling forward.
"You see that, Red?"
He shook his head. Jake pointed.
"There. Near the front."
"No."
"The blond. Semi-fresh. Got a tennis ball stuck in her mouth with duct tape."
"Hm. That's strange."
"You said it, Tonto." He turned to scan the hills around them.
&n
bsp; It sounded like a firecracker, whistling through the air. Jake felt a puff of wind across his cheek. Then the report of a rifle cracked from across the valley.
“What was that?”
“Shit, Red. Someone’s shooting at us.”
The sound came again, a whistle as the bullet sped through the air. Then, crack - a rifle’s report.
Red Wolf's horse screamed and crashed to the ground.
"Get down!" Jake called to the men on the rise.
A horse from the wagon fell, and they heard another crack - the bullet from the unknown shooter traveled faster than the sound - drawing the other horse, locked in its traces, down with it, screaming. From the corner of his eye, Jake saw a puff of white in the trees, on the skirt of a large hill.
Another crack. No one fell.
"Over there!" he yelled, pointing to the stand of trees where he'd seen the smoke. "Ransom! Sunseri! Get over there! Get him."
The herd's lowing grew louder. Ransom wheeled his horse and rode hard for the woods. Sunseri split off to the side, intending to flank. But then his horse pitched over, rump flying high, and he flew threw the air and hit the ground, headfirst.
Crack.
“He’s shooting horses!” Jake’s voice pitched upward.
Another whistle and report. Miller had dismounted and pulled his horse behind the wagon.
Simmons keeled over, landing with a thump, near a wagon wheel.
Crack.
Miller ran to where Simmons fell, going to his knees.
"Shit! He's wiping us out!"
Jake dropped from his horse and went over to where Red Wolf lay.
"You okay, Red?"
Red Wolf shook his head. "Got me through the leg when he shot Dharma. I think my foot's crushed, too. I can't get out."
Jake cursed, looked to check how far away the herd was, and shoved at Dharma's back.
"Damn. We gotta get you out of there quick. I can't budge her." He glanced around. "Wait a sec." He grabbed his rifle, shoved the barrel as far underneath the horse as he could, grabbed the stock and lifted, veins popping in his arms.
Red Wolf groaned and pushed himself out from under Dharma. Jake helped him up, to a standing position. He looked at his rifle. The barrel was bent. He dropped it.
"Come on, we gotta go."
Another whistle and Jake felt something tug at his jacket.
Crack.
"Shit. He's shooting again. Why the hell is he shooting at us?"
The herd drew close. The dead woman with a tennis ball taped into her mouth led the mass of revenants.
Jake pushed Red Wolf up and onto his horse, then swung behind. Blood from Red Wolf's wound ran in streamers down his kevlar leggings.
"We gotta get you away from the herd before we can check out that leg."
He turned his horse, holding Red Wolf upright, and rode for the wood where he saw the flash of white, where Ransom had ridden.
In moments, he was among the trees, working his way up a hill. Shots rang out behind him. He looked over his shoulder, and watched as undead swarmed Dharma and moved up the hill toward the wagon and Miller.
Jake heard yelling.
He rode into a small uneven clearing where Ransom held a boy of maybe twelve or thirteen, a hint of wispy beard on his chin. He was blond and grimy, dressed in clothes too small for his frame.
The boy thrashed in Ransom's grip. A rifle with an enormous scope lay on the ground.
"Here's the little sonofabitch. He's gone feral. He shot at me but I was too close for him to see through that scope. Little idiot could’ve popped me if he’d of just raised his head from the eye-piece. Bit me good when I caught him." He held up his hand. A bloody half-moon marred the webbing between thumb and index finger. "We should stake him and let the revs have him for dinner."
Red Wolf swayed in the saddle. Jake dismounted.
He approached the boy. "Why the hell were you shooting us? You killed two...three men. Horses. And the town needs those supplies. Why?"
The boy still thrashed, crying now. He said, "Momma. Momma."
Jake shook his head. "Bop him one to quiet him down."
"Wait." Red Wolf slumped off the horse, leaving a bloody smear behind. "Let him go."
"Sorry, Red, but I'm not gonna do that. This little bastard's gonna pay." Ransom held him tightly.
Red Wolf limped forward, removing his hat. Awkwardly, he went down on a knee.
"Is she blond?" he said, softly.
The boy stopped struggling and looked at Red Wolf, eyes large.
"She died and you didn't know what to do. You tried to keep her safe." Red Wolf swallowed and his face hitched in pain. "You thought maybe there'd be a cure."
The boy nodded. "Momma."
Jake scratched his head and looked at Ransom.
"So you tried to make her safe, yes? You put a tennis ball in her mouth to keep her from biting, but she got loose, didn't she?"
The boy nodded again. Jake cursed.
"Goddmamnit." Jake turned away and kicked at the ground. He looked out at the herd. "That don't matter, Red. It's real nice you figured out what happened..." He pointed to the herd. It had turned and began making its way toward where they stood in the copse of trees. "But he killed our men. Our horses. If we haven't lost all that scavenge, it's gonna take some doing to get it back to the Ponderosa."
Red Wolf shook his head. "He's just upset and trying to save his mother."
Jake spat. "So what should we do, then, send him to a shrink? Oh, I forgot. Ain't no shrinks anymore." He looked at the boy and said, "Hey, kid, your mother's dead. She'll eat your sorry ass if she gets a chance."
"I told you before, Jake, love doesn't end at death." He turned to Ransom. "Let him go. We're men, not animals.”
"No." Ransom shook the boy.
"Ransom, go ahead and stake him. We'll wait here for a while and once the herds get close enough, we'll flank em and see what's left of Miller and Simmons. Then well lead the herd back to the races." He didn't look at Red Wolf, couldn't meet his eyes. But he said, "Red, we'd never be safe with him. He can't be trusted. He'll kill us in our sleep. All over a dead woman."
At the mention of his mother, the boy squirmed, twisting his body wildly. Ransom lost his grip, and the boy's hand suddenly sprouted a hunting knife. He drove it into Ransom's neck, above the collar of kevlar. Ransom toppled over. The boy froze, his eyes going wide, as if in disbelief of what he had just done. He looked from Ransom's body to where Jake stood by Red Wolf. The moment lengthened, and then he moved, dashing away, into the trees. Jake began to run after him, but stopped.
He turned to Red Wolf, who was having trouble standing. He picked up the boy's discarded rifle.
"Damn it, Red. Let's get you up on the horse before Ransom goes revenant."
***
They were on the interstate, near the races, when Red Wolf slumped forward. He pitched onto the horse's neck, arms dangling to the sides. Jake had removed his belt and put a tourniquet on his Red Wolf’s leg, but the Kevlar armor had hard plastic ridges, and getting the tourniquet tight enough was almost impossible without dismounting and disrobing Red Wolf. But Jake’s horse moved too slow for stops, after a long days ride and bearing two men. The herd was twenty yards away. Close.
Jake said, "We got about thirty minutes, pard. Just hold on." He patted his back.
As best he could, Jake examined Red Wolf's wound. The blood had blackened on the ride, becoming crusty. It looked as if it had stopped bleeding. But Red Wolf still stirred.
“Get your rest, pard. We'll be drinking in a few.”
The mass of zombies were close behind them. In the distance, the corpse-fires pillared smoke into the atmosphere, tall black columns. Ever burning, Jake used the corpse-fires as a homing beacon. Soon they'd be near the chain-link fields.
Looking over his horse's rump, he spied Miller and Ransom shambling along with the rest of the undead. Simmons and Sunseri were missing. Head trauma, maybe. The blond woman with the tennis ball in
her mouth still led.
Jake looked at the fields surrounding the highway, searching for the boy. He was watching. Jake could feel it.
"I'm gonna make sure she's dead! Gonna grind her up! She's gonna burn!" His voice was sore from yelling. "I'm gonna spike her head myself!”
Silence, except for the lowing of the herd. Crows watched from dead powerlines. Jake studied the treeline.
“I got your gun! I'm gonna shoot her with it!”
Red Wolf stirred, shaking his head.
Jake could feel his body in front of him twist, coming to life. He patted Red Wolf again.
“Look there, Red. There's the fires, and here in a few we'll be rolling into the races. Almost home. Just sit tight.”
The horse nickered, tugging at the reins.
They rode on, between derelict cars. The fields passed slowly by, scraggly corn and wheat growing untended by the hands of man. The wind came down from the hilltops and rustled grass near the road. They passed over a bridge, water gurgling below.
The horse whinnyied, rearing. A bloody hole showed in her mane where Red Wolf had chewed into her neck.
In a moment of dislocation, Jake once again flipped ass over head and landed on the interstate, catching himself with his hands. Red Wolf's body smacked into the pavement, two feet away, face first. The mare bolted, heading for home.
The thing that had once been Red Wolf began to rise.
The corpse turned and fastened its eyes on him.
Jake scrambled backwards, and pulled his pistol. He stood, panting, in the late afternoon light. Red Wolf lurched forward, raising arms. He moaned.
"Goddamnit, Red." He shook his head.
He drew back the hammer on his piece, with a click. He wiped his eyes with his palm, clearing the tears away.
"Now you sound like one of them.”
"He raised the gun and fired. The corpse of Red Wolf slumped to the ground. Crows erupted from the nearby trees.
Jake looked at the fields. He screamed, an inchoate, lost sound. He dropped the pistol.
Fierce as the Grave: A Quartet of Horror Stories Page 4