The Apocalyse Outcasts

by Peter Meredith

“Why not,” Captain Grey demanded.

  “Because everyone knows that shouting brings out the monsters. I would be ascared to go around with someone who shouts all the time, but Miss Sarah was...what’s the word, Ipes? Desperate! She was desperate because the rules say you couldn’t get into New Eden ‘cept if you have a boy with you.”

  “Right, that makes sense,” Neil said. He let go of Jillybean to point at Arthur as if he was accusing him of something. “And...and he didn’t know exactly why they were going, remember? He said it was to be protected or something. Sarah must have talked him into going.”

  “Or this Janice person could have been an old friend,” Grey countered, playing devil’s advocate. “Someone he had survived the apocalypse with; someone with influence over him. Maybe she wanted to go to New Eden because she heard it was safe. That is the more plausible explanation.”

  Jillybean stared at Arthur thoughtfully for a few seconds before shaking her head. “No. That’s an explanation but not the most likely one. Mister Arthur said Janice had great belief when she met the prophet. That doesn’t sound like a normal person. When I met Abraham, I was curious and ascared.”

  “Me too,” Sadie said. “If he had done something...I don’t know, magical, I might have been able to believe, but he was just a guy spouting bible verses, although he did look the part of a prophet.”

  “Yep,” Jillybean agreed. “And he acted it, too. But he was a big fat phony. That’s why someone new coming up and showing ‘great faith’ and thinking Abraham was some sort of god doesn’t sound, um, plausible. Is that the right word? Yeah? Anyway it sounds like fakery and Miss Sarah would know how to fake it.”

  Neil was quick to agree, as was Nico and Sadie. Captain Grey was silent, staring down at Arthur who had begun to tremble and drool. “So much is possible but what is most likely?” he asked, talking more to himself than anyone present. He then jerked his head up. “Jillybean’s made some good points and if she’s right it means your friend Sarah is screwed. I wasn’t joking about needing an army. Between the five of us we have a couple of grenades a shotgun and my M4. It’s not enough.”

  “I have my axe,” Neil said feeling light-headed; hope and fear fighting for possession of his mind.

  “And it won’t do you a lick of good,” Grey said. “Grab this guy’s legs. “Let’s get this over with.”

  It was two seconds before Neil stooped and took hold of the man’s ankles. He felt he should be saying something. Making an argument. It seemed as though they were giving up on Sarah too easily. They had come eight hundred miles and now they were letting her go. He could see it in the way Sadie refused to take her eyes off the floor and how Nico looked relieved, but mostly it was in his own gut where he felt the sensation. He was empty inside. He didn’t feel love or fear or worry. He felt dead.

  Sarah was gone. She was beyond Neil’s ability to help.

  The soldier nearly tugged Arthur’s feet from Neil’s numb fingers as he started for the garage and he had to lurch forward to keep from dropping his end of the body. The garage was dark with a wet smell of earth and oil. A Buick sat beneath a perfectly even layer of dust. Seeing it, made Neil want to simultaneously run his fingers through the fine grains and at the same time, preserve the pristine nature of it.

  Grey didn’t give it a glance. He lowered his end of the panting body and then rolled it over so that Arthur’s face smeared the floor with sweat and mucus that had gone to an ugly, congealed yellow. Without the least gentleness, Grey exposed the back of Arthur’s neck and plunged a black-bladed knife into the joint where the skull met the spinal column. Arthur jerked once, his feet kicking a rhythm and then went still.

  “You want to say something for him?” Grey asked, standing over the body.

  Neil was bug-eyed by how easily Grey had killed the man. “Um, no. I don’t think so. I didn’t know him.”

  “That doesn’t mean shit,” Grey said in a soft growl. He bowed his head. “Lord, in your might and wisdom please bless the soul of your son, Arthur. Guide him in the afterlife and lead him to your glory. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Neil said, feeling guilty. The thought of a prayer hadn’t even entered his consciousness.

  “We’ll bury him in the morning,” Grey said and left the garage and the body without looking back. He went to the kitchen to wash off his knife and when he turned back he saw that everyone had joined him and were watching silently. He walked past them into the living room but when they followed, he turned quickly. His eyes fell on Jillybean who was playing with one of the strobe lights.

  “Out with it,” he said to her. “I can tell you’re trying to come up with some sort of angle to get us into New Eden. Trust me though, I’ve already thought of all of them: ruses, distractions, cons. Hell, I even contemplated a modern day Trojan Horse, but I always return to the issue of being out-gunned and undermanned. It’s something we won’t be able to get beyond.”

  Jillybean nodded. “Right. You said only an army could do it. I know where we can get an army.”

  Neil was down on one knee before anyone could say a word. “What army? People from around here? Is that what you mean?” Right before she could answer, Grey sighed with such obvious skepticism that it was insulting. Neil shot him a tense look and then turned her bodily away. “Don’t mind him. Just tell me, what army?”

  “Ok. It’s the…it’s the army…the army…” Jillybean began blinking rapidly, looking confused all of a sudden.

  Sadie grew alarmed and dropped down in front of the little girl. “Don’t listen to Ipes! He’s being bad. Just remember we’re here for you. Try to relax and tell us, what army are you talking about?”

  Jillybean took a shaky breath and put her hand out to Sadie. “I’m alright. Ipes was being bad again. He says that you like someone who abandoned us more than you like me.”

  “No, that’s not true,” Sadie said. “Don’t listen to Ipes. We all care for you, Jillybean.”

  “I know…maybe he should go to time out.”

  She started looking around for a proper place but Sadie shook her head. “Not in here. Put him in the kitchen or he’ll keep interfering.”

  After she took the offending zebra by the scruff of the neck and marched him out of the room, Grey dropped onto the couch. “That’s who makes the plans for you guys? No wonder you’re in such a sorry state.”

  “She’s very, very smart,” Sadie said, loud enough for Jillybean to hear through the swinging door to the kitchen.

  “It’s true,” Neil agreed. “She sees things differently than you and me. If she says she knows where an army is then I’d trust her.”

  “I agree that she sees things differently…” Grey lowered his voice, “…because she may have a screw loose. Don’t pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about. Chances are…”

  Just then there came a heavy thump on the front door—it was a very familiar sound, one each of them had heard a hundred times before. Grey slid off the couch and had his M4 pointed at the door in a quick move.

  “The doors will hold,” Sadie said in a whisper. “They’re very strong.”

  The door shook beneath the blows of more zombies. Captain Grey checked the lock and rattled the knob, satisfying himself with their strength. He then checked the black draped windows. Peeking out, he let out a curse.

  “Son of a bitch. There’s about a billion stiffs out there. I wonder why they…wait.” Suddenly he dashed from the window and charged into the kitchen. The others followed and at first Neil failed to see what had Grey pulling at his hair; the kitchen was shut up tight; everything seemed normal. Then it dawned on him that Jillybean wasn’t there.

  “She hung a strobe light on the porch railing out front,” Grey said. “What was I saying about her having a screw loose?”

  Chapter 35

  Sadie

  Southern Georgia

  Sadie had the reassuring weight of the shotgun in her hand and was heading for the back door when Captain Grey grabbed her and pulled her ba
ck. “You’re staying here. Someone’s got to keep an eye on Nico. Neil and I will go out. Time to put that axe of yours to some use.”

  Although Neil paled at the thought of heading out into the night of a million zombies, he did not back down. He wiped the sweat from his palms and picked up his axe.

  “I should go, too. You don’t know her like I do,” Sadie said. “She’s freaking smart and she won’t be easy to catch, and besides I’m faster than both of you put together.”

  Grey pulled back the black felt that had been slung over the window. The zombies were ten deep and crowding closer. He shut the curtain with a snap. “Speed won’t help you tonight. I have body armor and Neil is inoculated; we should be safe enough. Besides, what if Jillybean comes back? She’ll need you. I can tell that she looks up to you like a big sister.”

  “But…” Sadie began only just then Neil hugged her and squeezed her hard enough to stop her breath.

  “Please, stay here for me. I’m going out of mind enough with Sarah and Eve out there and now Jillybean too? I can’t deal with more than that. Not tonight. Not with so many zombies out there.”

  Reluctantly she agreed to stay behind.

  Captain Grey dug in his pack and produced two radios. He handed her one, explaining: “Keep it on channel 6 and use it sparingly. If you need to report in, begin your call sign with a color but only if you’re safe. Like this: Blue, come in blue this is green—do you understand? If you don’t start with a color, I’ll figure that a bounty hunter or one of the Believers has caught you.”

  “Color equals safe. Got it.”

  The soldier nodded. “We’ll do the same. She has only a five minute head start. Hopefully, we’ll get her quickly and get back. In the meantime try to disable that strobe without getting bitten.”

  “How?”

  “Improvise, adapt and overcome,” Grey said over his shoulder as he strode out of the room with Neil in tow.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

  “I think it means figure it out,” Neil said and then they were both out the back door and quickly lost in the gloom of the night.

  Sadie came back to the living room. She sighed, eyeing the radio. Then she clipped it to her jeans and sighed again. Finally, after a third sigh she said, “I guess we need to figure out that strobe.”

  “I am try to figure out what I get into,” Nico remarked from the couch. He was still pale and weak from his surgery of the day before, however he wore a little smile. “Next time I save pretty girl, I think twice. Here we are. Bunch of crazies, running all over country to save woman and baby, and we cannot save ourselves.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Sadie went to the window and peeked out. “Son of a gun there’s a lot of them out there. Blow out the candles, will you?” The banging on the door was starting to become unsettling and she had to remind herself that, just like the windows, it was reinforced and would take a lot more than a few zombies to get through it.

  Thankfully the strobe light was drawing most of their attention. It was draped over a decorative knob of wood at the end of the stair railing and there was an entire gaggle of zombies around it. Sadie bit off another sigh and looked back at the now gloomy room, seeing Nico more like a spectral figure than a man. It gave her the heebie-jeebies to see him like that.

  “Do you think it’s called a gaggle of zombies?” she asked to lighten her mood.

  “What is gaggle? Sound like much of women talking.”

  “What?” she asked astounded. There was a throw-pillow at hand and she threw it indeed. Nico swatted it away with his good arm, chuckling.

  “I joke. I know not good name for most a lot of zombies. You are American. Is your language. You should tell me, not me tell you.”

  “I don’t know…” A thought struck her in mid-sentence. Throwing the pillow had given her an idea. “Why don’t you rest on the couch, I’ll be right back.”

  Sadie went to the kitchen and by the light of a flashlight began gathering up an armful of the heaviest pots and pans in the house. She then went to the second floor and slid up a bedroom window that opened onto the porch roof. She seemed very high up.

  “Just don’t look down,” she joked. She would have to look down in order to knock out the strobe.

  A glance told her that hitting the strobe, which was smaller than a clock-radio, with a twelve-inch skillet from the angle she was at was going to be a near impossible task. That didn’t stop her in the least. She threw the first of her small arsenal since she didn’t have any other ideas and it was better than carting all the pans back down stairs.

  Throwing a skillet was neither an art nor a science, it was actually fun. The skillet curved away from her target and rang off a zombie skull before hitting the walkway with a metallic klonk. She threw the next one slightly off target to compensate for the curve that the first pan had demonstrated, but for some reason this frying pan went straight, hitting another zombie and ending up in the bushes.

  She went through the remaining six pans with equally poor results. She did manage to attract all the zombies’ attention and piss off quite a few. They gathered below, looking up with hate in their dull eyes. “Be right back,” she told them when she had run out of things to throw.

  She ducked back inside and sent the beam of her flashlight around the room. It had been a boy’s room, but the items in it were extremely dated. A calendar was pinned open to July of 1977 and on the wall was a poster of Farrah Fawcett in a red, one-piece bathing suit. Even after thirty-seven years her teeth still gleamed brightly in the dark room.

  “It’s like a time capsule in here,” Sadie said in hushed tones. With her Goth look and her brash ways, it felt like she was disturbing the spirit of the room, as though the room was unhappy in some way that a girl was in it. The dim glow of the flashlight and the moans of the undead outside the window didn’t help.

  “Sorry about this, but duty demands,” she said, briskly, as her light flicked over the bed and dresser and came to rest on a twenty gallon fish tank sitting on a desk. It was bone dry but still heavy. She heaved it through the open window and then slid it out onto the roof. After aiming, she let the aquarium slide down the shingles, crying out, “Bombs away!”

  There was a tremendous crash that seemed to ring out in slow motion as shards of glass went everywhere, each seeming to break a second or third time. In the house below, Nico was yelling in alarm, asking if she was alright.

  “I’m fine,” she called out as she crept to the edge to see her handiwork. The tank had struck the rail a foot away from the strobe. The light was untouched and sat there, blinking merrily, seemingly unconcerned at the close call it had just had.

  There was so much glass everywhere that she didn’t trust the rubber soles of her Converse sneakers to keep her feet intact. “So much for using the front door,” she said, wondering if this was what Captain Grey had imagined when he had said improvise, adapt, and overcome. Probably not.

  She went back inside the bedroom, which was no longer quite so somber feeling. The air was lighter as though the spirit of the boy would have appreciated such shenanigans. “You liked that, did you?”

  Eagerly, she went for the next larger item: a thirteen inch black and white TV. It didn’t look like much, however she grunted under its weight and when she let it go, bounding off the roof, it struck the sidewalk with the sound of an explosion. She had missed again.

  Nico appeared in the doorway just as she was climbing back in the window. “Well?” he asked. The strobe was still going strong and so far she had only managed to attract even more zombies to the house.

  “I’m working on it,” she told him.

  He dropped onto the bed and in the beam of light they could see dust billow madly. Nico waved at the plume ineffectually and then pulled off the top comforter and slung it to the floor. Beneath was a blue blanket that was folded back neatly, revealing sailboat sheets. Again, the “boy” feeling came back, but this time it was with a feeling of nostalgia that
made Sadie smile.

  “Time to break out the big guns,” she said, eyeing the next item that would add to her night of mayhem: a squat, three-drawer dresser. It was going to be a complete bitch. In fact, after making a guess as to its dimensions she figured that she would probably have to break the window to get it out onto the roof. But first things first: she had to clear a path. The heavy comforter Nico had tossed aside was in the way. She grabbed it and slung it over a chair…

  “Well I’ll be,” she said, amused.

  “You be, what?” Nico asked.

  “I’ll be feeling stupid.” Instead of risking a hernia trying to get the dresser out the window, she took the comforter and crawled out onto the roof. Seconds later it was draped across the railing, literally blanketing the strobe light. “Improvise, adapt, and overcome,” she whispered. “I bet Jillybean would’ve seen that right off the bat.”

  Sadie stared out, trying to pierce the shadows, wondering where the little girl was and thinking that maybe it might have been better if she had left the strobe light going to light the way home. Sadie began to feel the lightness of fear in her belly. She pulled out the radio.

  “Hello Neil? Have you found her? Captain Grey? Can you guys hear me? Oh, shit, I forgot. Blue this is green. Come in Green. Hello?” No one picked up. She tried again and again as the feeling in her belly intensified.

  “They’re not answering,” she said to Nico. The Russian had fallen asleep on the bed with his good, left arm tucked under his head. “Nico? Hey, they aren’t picking up. I’ve tried them, like twenty times and…”

  Just then her radio squawked and she jumped. “Green this is blue. Come in green.” It was Captain Grey’s voice; he didn’t sound happy.

  Sadie hit the send button: “Hi, this is green. Did you guys find her?”

  “No we didn’t and thanks to all your God-awful chatter you nearly got us killed!” Grey’s anger came in loud and clear through the little radio.

  “Sorry about that,” Sadie said.

  “I don’t want or need you to be sorry. I need you to be smart. I need you to remember the rules to broadcasting over the mother-fucking radio. First rule: always remember that anyone can be listening. Second rule: don’t use names! Third, don’t use it like you’re an idiot teenager with a cell phone. Only use the mother-fucking radio when you have something mother-fucking useful to say! Over!”