The Apocalypse Fugitives

by Peter Meredith

  "A moron like you doesn't get to tell me to calm down or how I should or should not be," she said, still advancing. "I'll be any way I want to be…"

  Just then as she was passing an SUV, Captain Grey stepped out from between the cars. The woman tried to bring her gun around to aim at him, but he was too quick by half. He caught her arm, bent her wrist and disarmed her in a second. In the next second he had her own gun pointed at her head.

  "That'll be enough out of you," he said in her ear. He held her very close to his body and expertly frisked her, running his hands quickly over her body.

  This simple act caused her to go into a rage, which was mirrored by the other women. "If you don't let me go this instant, I'll have them kill you," she hissed at Grey.

  Calm as always, he replied with a simple, "No."

  "Kill him!" she screamed.

  The other women pointed their weapons but between them and Grey stepped Jillybean with her hands at shoulder height as if surrendering. She had slithered beneath a car at the first sign of the truck and took the worst moment possible to come out of hiding.

  "Get away from those soldiers, Jillybean," Neil said, speaking fast. One of the women was coming toward her with her gun pointed. The little girl had just turned the tide against them, or so Neil thought.

  "These aren't soldiers," Jillybean said, calmly. "We don't have to be afraid."

  Chapter 23

  Deanna Russell

  Southern Illinois

  When the rains came they did not come as Deanna expected a miracle to come. They came, as only Noah and his family ever lived to remember: the rain flew in sharp and hard, slanting sideways to drown the fire. It was a deluge that few among them had ever experienced, at least first hand, outdoors on an exposed roof. They were soaked to the bone in seconds and yet in spite of the sudden cold and the misery of pelting rain, the women danced on the roof top and hugged each other because they believed they had been delivered.

  Only Connie kept her wits. "We need to stop," she said, looking down the eve of the roof. Though the fire was hissing and billowing white vapors, the zombies below were still clamoring to get at them.

  "Everyone lie down and huddle very close together," Connie ordered. "Maybe they'll go away."

  That also seemed be in the miracle department but sure enough once the women stopped drawing attention to themselves and once the fire died away to smolder in hidden spots amongst the wreckage, the zombies began to drift on, traveling north in a huge herd.

  When all the zombies were gone, save for a few stragglers, Deanna and Connie climbed down a rain-slicked drain pipe and went in search of a ladder for the others to use. Deanna was very glad to see the new look of determination on Connie's face. She was turning some sort of mental corner and was beginning to be her old, pre-apocalypse self. Deanna didn't feel so alone when she was near.

  A cold wet night was upon them by the time they found a ladder tall enough and so the accommodations that night was a nearby Village Inn. It had been stripped of every possible food item however there were enough tablecloths to wrap the shivering women in and plenty of booths with comfy cushions to be used as beds.

  The next day they went out to survey the scene at the church and found two soldiers alive in a zombie sort of way trying to disentangle themselves from the slag heap that used to be the east end of the church. "That's Major Grant," Veronica said, indicating the taller of the two zombies. "With his face ate off, I don't recognize the other one."

  "Who wants to kill them?" Deanna asked. When no one raised their hands, Connie started forward, but Deanna stopped her. "No. Someone else. Listen ladies, the simple truth is we became whores because we were afraid. I know I was pretty much afraid of everything in this world. Now, it's different. I'm not afraid anymore, I'm pissed off. I let men do things to me that were degrading and wretched. Things I will never speak of. But I won't anymore because I faced my fear. All of you have to do the same because if you can't conquer your fears, you'll go right back to being whores. One way to do that is to kill a zombie. Anyone? Decide quick because they're getting closer."

  Veronica came forward and accepted the shotgun, but when no one else would step up, Deanna went to Melanie and held out the black pistol. She took it without any enthusiasm and while the shotgun did its grisly work with one pull of the trigger, it took Melanie three bullets to kill the second zombie. Deanna tried to hide how much that galled her; their ammunition level was dangerously low.

  Still, the women cheered Veronica and Melanie, both of whom looked relieved once the odorous chore was complete.

  After that the women went about the difficult and dangerous job of living. There was ammo in the Humvees, but not much, and there was food, but even less. Of water there was almost nothing. They scrounged around in the empty houses and filled Tupperware containers with rainwater until they felt they had enough to travel on.

  Gas was not a problem since the Humvees were fueled up and had extra tanks mounted on the sides. Under Deanna's direction they transferred all the fuel to the big truck and then pushed the Humvees down an alleyway.

  During all of this there were plenty of zombies that had to be dealt with. When possible, Deanna and Connie made sure that the other women took their turns killing them, but sometimes the beasts would come rushing out of nowhere, seemingly, and had to be put down by the closest person.

  By the end of that first real day of freedom they were exhausted and hungry. It was clear to everyone that the food wasn't going to last a week if they didn't begin rationing it right away. Glumly, they each had a miniscule plate; some ate quick in a couple of bites, some ate slow, savoring the crappy canned food, but no one complained and that was a victory in Deanna's eyes.

  The next day they decided to put some miles between them and the burnt out church and they chugged a hundred miles down the road, giving St Louis a wide birth and stopping about midday when they came across their first sign of humanity: a billboard.

  There were lots of billboards along Highway 51, but this one was different. It had been painted over in white and across that someone had spray painted the words: Last Safe River Crossing: Cape Girardeau!

  The sign had a strange effect on the women. They knew east and north were both dangerous, while south was a big unknown, but the sign gave the impression that to the west lay safety of some sort.

  "The land is wide open," Kay said. "There's almost no trees. You can see for miles." Everyone knew what that meant: zombies would be easier to deal with. "I bet there are still real towns out there."

  No vote was taken, but from then on it was decided their destination laid somewhere in the great expanse of the west. Getting there was the only problem. It was rainy and miserably cold for the women in the covered truck bed and to make matters worse, thirty miles from the town of Cape Girardeau, highway 51 grew so congested with zombies and stalled out cars that they were forced into a looping detour.

  They were in the midst of that detour when the rain let up and Kay saw a pickup truck loaded with supplies just sitting on the side of the road with no one around but a smallish looking zombie. Two minutes later Deanna was living her worst nightmare: captured once again by a soldier and absolutely helpless against his strength. It filled her with a hot rage.

  "Kill him!" she screamed. She was just thinking she'd rather die than be sent back to The Island when a little girl wandered up.

  The smaller of the two men, the one she thought had been a zombie said, "Get away from those soldiers, Jillybean."

  "These aren't soldiers," Jillybean said, to the two men. "We don't have to be afraid."

  "I'm not afraid," the man holding Deanna said and clearly meant it. She could feel his heart beating through their clothing; it was slow and steady, perhaps the most relaxed heartbeat she had ever heard. Nor was he sweating; his hands were smooth, but hard as rock and dry as bone.

  The smaller man didn't seem afraid for himself either; it was the girl he was afraid for and Deanna assumed that he was
her father. "It doesn't matter, Jillybean," he said. "Get away from them, now, please."

  "It does matter Mister Neil. If they were soldiers we should be afraid but they are not. Look at their guns. Most of them don't have the bottom piece where the bullets go, that's what means they're empty. And their army outfits don't fit, you can see they pinned their pants up. And that lady there and that one too, have bruises on their faces. In fact most of them do, though they're trying to cover it up with makeup. You see? We don't have to be afraid because they're afraid of us."

  "We aren't," insisted Joslyn. "What's there to be afraid of? A couple of douche bags and a know it all little girl? I don't think so."

  Jillybean frowned at her, gave her a once over with her blue eyes and then frowned deeper. "You're not afraid because your gun has bullets," the little girl concluded. "The women next to you has an empty gun and she's shaking like a leaf and that girl with the red hair has only a stick. I can tell she's afraid, but I can't tell what the stick is for."

  The question was directed to Susan Mills. She was one of the few "old whores" left. Like Melanie she had pissed off the wrong man and now her face was misshapen and scarred. She was only still alive because she could cook like no other.

  "If I see a zombie, I could, like hit it over the head," Susan answered, making a swinging motion with the stick.

  Jillybean raised an eyebrow at this and then turned back to her friends. "See? They're harmless, but also interesting. That's what means there's something strange about them."

  "Someone shut the brat up," Joslyn demanded. "She's the one that's strange."

  "Come on, Jillybean. Get away from there," Neil said, waving her over. "Let the grownups talk."

  "I like your hair," Jillybean said to Joslyn before walking away.

  Deanna flicked her eyes from the little girl to Joslyn's hair. As always it was brushed out and framed her face perfectly. Jillybean's hair looked like a robin had made a nest out of it. She came up to Deanna and gave her a once over.

  The soldier who held Deanna asked the girl, "They're not dangerous?"

  "No sir, Mister Captain Grey sir. They're from The Island. And like…" she paused as there was a murmur from the women behind her. "And like I said they're afraid of us, except they're not that afraid of Mister Neil and me…what's that Ipes? Oh right. They're not afraid of Mister Neil and I. They're afraid of you because you're in the army."

  "Hmmm," Captain Grey said.

  "I don't know who this girl thinks she is," Deanna said, stiffly. "But we're not from any island. And I would appreciate it if you let go of me, now."

  "Not yet. How do you know about The Island, Jillybean?"

  "Oh, from Sadie and Sarah, but from Mister Neil mostly. He's not good at whispering. They talked about it all the time."

  "Smooth as always, Neil," Grey said with a smirk. What Jillybean said next wiped the smirk right off.

  "I figured it out that they were from The Island once I figured out they were prostitutes."

  The very recent prostitutes from The Island all began to deny it in outraged tones. Neil shook his head and asked, "How the heck do you know that word?"

  "From my dictionary. Amember my big book I have? I looked it up earlier. And I looked up sex. That's what means making babies. And I learned than a man has to…"

  "Stop, please," Neil said. When she shut her mouth the adults sighed in relief. Neil took a deep breath and asked, "How are you making these conclusions? About them being from The Island, I mean."

  "It doesn't matter what she says," Joslyn barked. "We're not prostitutes and it's very rude to even make that assumption."

  "I'll believe her before I believe you," Neil replied. "Now Jillybean, let's hear your crazy-train of thoughts."

  "It's simple. I know The Island is where mean soldiers live and I know they have prostitutes there. The girl prisoners we rescued had talked about how they thought it was better for Sadie to be sold to the soldiers at The Island because then all she'd be was a prostitute. That's why I looked up that word."

  "Yeah, so?" Neil asked, his mouth open in confusion. "And how does that tie in with…any of it."

  "I was just telling you how I know the word and how I know they have them on The Island. I only guessed they were prostitutes by their reaction to Mister Captain Grey. You could tell they either hated him or were ascared of him or both. But they weren't like that with you Mister Neil."

  "I suppose I'm not the most imposing of men," Neil said in response.

  "Yeah, you're small, but it was more than that. That lady there," she pointed at Deanna. "Got the spazzes when Mister Captain Grey searched her for weapons. She…I don't know the right word, but she didn't like his hands on her body."

  "She was revolted?" Grey asked.

  "Yeah," Jillybean agreed. "Even though you weren't touching her private parts. So that fit in with the whole idea. And then there was the fact that they are so pretty, most of them that is. They don't look like any of the girls from the Floating Island or any of the Believers. Those girls look kinda tired and none wear makeup at all. But these women do. It's a little faded but it's there. And look at their hair. Someone cuts it regularly to look nice. And look at their hands. Their nails are pretty looking and all of them have polish."

  "I see it now," Grey said. He sniffed Deanna's hair. "Smells nice. You're right Jilly, these are kept-women. They haven't been scrounging for food and firewood, or cooking over open flames for the last six months. They haven't been scrubbing pots in rivers and they haven't been climbing trees to get away from zombies."

  She nodded. "Yep. They are new to being outside. That one lady couldn't drive the truck none too good and none of them noticed that Neil was a man even though he wasn't acting anything like a zombie, and the lady with a stick doesn't have any idea how hard a zombie's head is. Their army clothes are for boys that they pinned up around their ankles and wrists. I think they probably stole those clothes and grabbed a truck and ran away. That's why they're afraid of you, Mister Captain Grey, sir."

  "Could she be wrong?" Neil asked Grey. "She's grabbing at a lot of straws."

  "Of course she could be wrong," Grey answered. "But she's not. The reactions of these women told us that Jillybean is spot on again." Only then did Deanna realize she had slumped in defeat against the soldier. She stiffened immediately. "You don't have to be afraid of me," he said, releasing her. After clicking the safe on, he handed her gun back.

  Their hands touched and their eyes locked. Hers were a pretty blue; his were very dark. There was pity in them.

  "I know what you're thinking and I don't need your pity," she seethed. "Take your judgmental crap and leave." She pointed away down the street.

  He didn't budge. "You need us."

  "I need a wimp, a psycho little girl and a baby-killer? I don't think so."

  Neil came up; with Bessy's boots on she stood three inches taller than him. She glared down at him, but he pretended not to notice. "Maybe you do and maybe you don't. Right now we have forty-seven men, women, and children going to Colorado where we hope to find freedom. You're welcome to join us."

  A very large part of Deanna wanted to instantly reject the suggestion, these were strangers after all, but Connie who had grown in wisdom, said, "We shouldn't refuse help," and Deanna knew she was right.

  "Fine, but I don't want this asshole," she jabbed her thumb toward Grey, "touching any of us. Is that clear?"

  Grey shrugged. "Sure, I won't even look at you."

  "Tell me, do you have any doctors with you?" Veronica said coming forward. "We have a woman who needs medical attention."

  The army captain smiled. "I'd help but that would require touching."

  Chapter 24

  Captain Grey

  Southern Illinois

  "I think I'm done," Grey said, in a soft growl. "One more vote and I'm going to strangle someone." Neil grunted his affirmation and shifted his butt on the hard bleachers. They were in a dim shadow-struck school gym in a town sixteen
miles east of Cape Girardeau, Missouri, listening as people were encouraged to speak their minds about the upcoming river crossing. To Grey it just seemed like an excuse for everyone to run their mouths.

  "I still don't see why we even believe this bandit you guys talked to," Joslyn said after being recognized by the three person panel. The panel was made up of Connie Taylor who looked frightened half to death, William Gates, who was so silent he made Grey look long-winded, and Fred Trigg who had flattened his brown hair down and put on a shirt and tie and generally acted like the panel was a formality, speaking for the others at every opportunity. They were seated at a table on the gym floor, in front of the now very large group occupying the bleachers. For light a few lanterns were strategically set around them.

  Joslyn went on, "Why would the bandit tell the truth about anything? For that matter why do we believe the River King's propaganda? He claims to have the only intact bridge crossing the Mississippi, but who really knows? Who even knows how many bridges there are?"

  "Right," Fred said, agreeably. He had been so agreeable since Grey came back with twenty more mouths to feed it was tiresome. "There's probably a thousand bridges."

  Neil raised his hand and without being called stated, "I went down the river from the middle of Illinois on a boat six months ago and even then there wasn't a single fully intact bridge in that entire stretch. There was part of a bridge left in St Louis, but that city is a nightmare and I wouldn't chance it."

  "What about south of St Louis?" Trigg asked.

  "We didn't go further south than this," Neil answered. "However, it reasons that the inhabitants of the western side of the river would…"

  Fred interrupted, "Speculation, Mr. Martin. The number of river crossings is unknown and you only saw a small section of the river."

  "It is unknown by you Mister Fred," Jillybean said. "But I know how many there are. There are 221 bridges. That's according to my encyclopedia. That's what means a book that knows everything. I'm reading it right now. I'm still on the letter A, but I looked up the Mississippi River when I heard we were gonna cross it tomorrow."