by J. Thorn
I pointed to Jack and gestured down the ditch we were using as cover one way and for Aaron to go the other. I indicated Jamie to stay put and then peeked around the front of the car to the road. I couldn’t see anything moving. Not even a zombie.
Scrambling up the embankment, I looked both ways, confirming the coast was clear, and scurried to the next closest vehicle, a rusted out, non-descript sedan. All four of its doors were gone. That’s kinda weird, I thought. Looking inside, I saw plenty of very old, dried blood. I climbed in back staying prone on the long bench-style seat. I lay still and listened. I could hear the tall, brown grass along the side of the road rustling in the gentle breeze.
Crunch.
The distinct sound of gravel underfoot tickled my senses. Somebody made a “shushing” sound, but only after smacking something, most likely the offender. It was silent for several heartbeats, then, I heard a whispering voice. It wasn’t clear enough to decipher, but there was an unmistakable urgency. Seconds later, I heard, and then felt, something come into contact with the car I was hiding in.
I was in a bad position. Currently on my stomach with my head inches away from the opening where the back door on the driver’s side used to be, the same side whoever was outside the car was on. Then it got worse. I felt somebody slide up against the other side.
Hmmm. Whoever was out there couldn’t know about us. One of them was “hiding” right where Jamie could pick them off. No, they were watching for or hiding from something farther up the road.
“Ricky!” the voice closest to my head hissed.
“Yeah?” a very young sounding voice answered.
“You see where Toad and Princess went?”
“They ran for that water truck.”
“Well I didn’t hear anything,” the voice sounded angry. “I think they made that up so we’d all hide and them two could go someplace and fuck again.”
“Yeah,” Ricky sighed. “Well I say we leave ‘em. I can’t take much more of those two hangin’ all over each other every minute of every day.”
“It’s kept Princess off your back.”
“Good point,” Ricky said with an odd grimness.
I reached down slowly and flipped open my leather holster. Very carefully, I drew my .45 and waited for the next verbal exchange to ease off the safety.
“Should we go check on them?” Ricky finally broke the silence and provided me with my opportunity.
“Nah,” the other voice grumbled. I heard a shifting and sliding sound. He’d obviously slid down and was now likely leaning against the rear quarter panel of my hideout.
“You got any of them berries left?” Ricky asked, sounding like a child in the backseat on a road trip with his parents.
“You already ate all yours?”
“C’mon, Pete,” Ricky was practically whining, “I ain’t had nothin’ but that nasty soup for two days now.”
“Whatcha got for trades?” Pete sounded kinda sleazy.
“I got that pack of socks.”
“For berries? No trade.”
There was a long silence. I lay there, sweat starting to trickle down my spine to the small of my back. I was struck by this conversation. Certainly it couldn’t be that bad for folks. It’d only been a few months. Sure, a lot has happened, but so far, finding food hadn’t been that big of a problem.
“I’ll take your turn with Princess,” Ricky blurted, actually startling me just a bit.
“Two.”
A long pause, then, “Fine.”
I heard some rustling sounds, then a slight shudder of the vehicle.
“Thanks,” Ricky said.
“See if you feel that way tomorrow,” Pete chuckled. I didn’t much care for Pete.
There was another long silence. I began to wonder what Jamie, Aaron, and Jack were up to. I knew that Jamie was in a position where he could see Ricky at least. He’d definitely seen me duck into this car. But it was, for all intents and purposes, silent out there. I tried to breathe as quietly as possible and keep the pistol ready. As cruel as it might sound, I knew I would shoot the first person to pass in front of either opening. I wouldn’t be waiting to figure out if they were gonna be friendly or not. Then I heard approaching footsteps from the front.
“Pete?” a new voice called. “Where’s Ricky?”
“Here,” Ricky answered and I could hear him getting to his feet. Whoever was approaching came to a stop and I heard Pete climb to his feet as well. I took in a slow, deep breath and held it, ready to shoot.
“Princess says you two need to move your lazy asses and help unload some water bottles,” the new voice said. “Fetch the cart and get up here.”
A single shot rang out and something collided with the front of the car. Ricky and Pete both began shouting and I felt Pete slam against his side of the car. Another shot sounded and I felt something hit the rear bumper.
“Ricky!” Pete yelled.
I took that moment to push forward and turn onto my right side. I was already squeezing the trigger as the hand holding my pistol cleared the empty doorway. My bullet took the young man who couldn’t be older than twenty—but looked more likely to be Aaron and Jamie’s age—in the neck. He fell back, his own gun skidding across the asphalt. His hands came up, clutching at his throat as blood poured between his fingers. He mouthed something that looked like “Why?” which burned an image in my mind that I tried desperately to shake clear.
Another volley of shots rang out and chips from the road flew up, hitting the back of my head and neck. Another bullet slammed into the car’s rear quarter panel, and I swear I felt it buzz the top of my head. I ducked back inside as another bullet sent a puff of dust rising from the backrest of the bench seat.
“Drop your gun!” a voice called, followed by the boom of a shotgun.
I heard the clatter of a gun hitting the pavement. Slowly, I peeked up over the headrest on the driver’s side. It took me a moment to really process what I was seeing. Possibly the biggest man I’d ever seen in my life stood a dozen or so yards away with his hands up. I knew it was a man because of the three-day-old growth of beard on his face. The long, curly wig on his head was askew, covering part of his face, but the other side with the abundance of make-up on it was visible. A garish amount of bright green eye shadow made a swathe of color all the way to the temple. The ruby-red lipstick was heavily smeared and visible in the man’s chin stubble. I guessed him to be well over six-and-a-half-feet tall, close to four hundred pounds, and not much of it was fat. His massive, barrel-chest threatened to burst every button on the flowery dress that was stuffed like a sausage casing.
“Don’t shoot!” a deep voice rumbled forth from the behemoth.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I breathed, sitting up and sliding out of the back of the car while keeping my gun trained on a target that there was no way I could miss.
“Please,” the big man pleaded, “I don’t want any problems. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just don’t kill me.” The man actually began to blubber, tears rolling down his cheek in a Technicolor waterfall.
“Sound off, guys!” I called.
“Yo!” Jamie stepped out from behind the car he’d been behind, shotgun resting on one hip.
“I’m good,” Aaron called from behind me, but I couldn’t turn and take my eyes off the sight before me.
“Um…present.” Jack stepped up onto the road waving an arm.
“Please,” the big man knelt, keeping his hands up in the process, “don’t kill me.”
“You can’t be Princess,” Jamie blurted, letting me know he’d heard at least some, if not all, of the conversation between Pete and Ricky.
The big man’s head swung slowly, nodding, “Yes, I’m Princess.”
“And these three?” I waved one hand around indicating the carnage on the ground around me and the car I’d been hiding in.
“My sweet, sweet boys,” Princess sobbed.
“You freakin’ weirdo!” Jamie spat, climbing up the embankment of the
ditch and onto the road.
The big man suddenly lifted his chin and glared defiantly at Jamie. I saw something in his eyes that was fierce and dangerous. Then, in an instant, it was gone again and the lower lip came out quivering.
“Who were these…boys?” I asked, stepping to the rear of the car and glancing down at the body. My God, I thought, it was a boy. This one looked even younger than Pete, the one I’d blown the throat out of.
“My sweet, swee—”
“Boys!” Jamie snapped, pumping the shotgun. “We get it. But you better start saying something meaningful real soon or I’m gonna splatter your brains all over this road!”
“Jamie!” I moved away from the boy at my feet.
“What?” Jamie only took his eyes off the big man for a second to glare at me. “This…this monster’s been wandering around doing who-knows-what to these three boys because he can! Give me a reason not to blast the creep.”
“Because,” Aaron had walked up during the tirade and stopped beside me, “we haven’t let him talk. We aren’t monsters or cold-blooded murderers like some people.”
“It’s not what you think,” Princess sniffed.
“I think you’ve been using those boys for your sick, selfish desires!” Jamie shouted.
“How dare you!” Princess retorted. He made a move to stand, but the four guns that homed in on him seemed to make him rethink his options and he settled back down to his knees.
Once again I saw something in those eyes. Something behind the tears and running mascara. Something cold, vicious, and…evil? Was I allowing my prejudice against somebody so different to cloud my thinking?
“Those were my sweet boys!” Princess insisted. “Each one personally saved by me from the clutches of death at the hands of those terrible monsters.”
“Then why did one of them have to trade two turns with Princess?” I asked, remembering the exchange between Pete and Ricky.
Princess’ eyes grew wide, and now I believed the fear I could see in them. Jack was moving slowly to put himself directly behind our captive while still keeping his distance. Aaron was staring down at the dead body lying in a puddle of blood at our feet. A soft noise, barely above a whisper overpowered the tense silence.
Jamie broke and ran for the rear of the car where I’d figured Ricky to be dead; basically forgotten like the other two I’d seen and knew to be dead. Princess shifted and I leveled my gun again, shaking my head in warning. The big man’s head dropped, and the disheveled wig finally gave up and fluttered to the ground looking like a giant, dead poodle. The exposed head was mostly hairless. Princess had some severe male pattern baldness.
“He’s alive,” Jamie called. “Barely.”
“Is he gonna make it?” Aaron asked, scooting around the front of the car to get over to Jamie’s side.
“Easy,” Jamie’s voice grew soft. “Ricky is it?”
“Is my sweet Ricky okay?” Princess sounded genuinely concerned.
“No,” Jamie’s voice sounded pained.
I heard whispered conversation, but couldn’t make out any of what was being said. I desperately wanted to move closer, but I was scared to turn away from Princess for a second, even with Jack covering—mostly because I didn’t know Jack well enough. I’d never been in a sticky situation with him, so there was no way to know how he might respond.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“He took one in the chest,” Jamie reported. “I think it’s a lung.”
“Every single one of those deaths is your fault,” hissed Aaron at the big man, bringing his rifle up to his shoulder.
“Aaron,” I had a very bad feeling all of a sudden, “why don’t we just bring things down a notch?”
“No,” Aaron insisted. “This sick bastard is all part of everything that happens every single goddamn day!”
“We have no idea what the situation is,” I reminded him of his own argument from earlier, “we haven’t let the man talk. We aren’t the monsters.”
“I’ve heard all I need to,” Aaron said flatly.
What was being said over there? I wondered. Obviously Ricky was talking, and every so often I heard Jamie say or ask something else. Aaron was in a position to hear it all.
“And who are you to judge me, boy?” Princess’ voice had changed tone. It was gruff and harsh, fitting of the gigantic man kneeling on the pavement.
“I saved each one of my boys from death. Were you there? No! I pulled Ricky from a burning building with dozens of those things. Pete? When I found him, he was locked in a basement, the entire house filled with dead members of his family all trying to get to him. He was almost starved. And Tommy, the one you’re standing over like he’s not even there, that poor lad was stuck inside a car in the parking lot of a grocery store with his own mother. The only thing saving him was her inability to get free of her seatbelt. So don’t you dare judge me, each one came of his own free will.”
“So they had a choice of death or being butt-fucked by a cross-dressing pedophile,” Aaron spat. “That’s not a choice, you sicko!”
“I never forced—”
“It was you or death!” Aaron cut Princess off.
There was a long silence. I let my eyes slide over to get a better look at Aaron. He had the butt of the rifle snug against his shoulder and a finger on the trigger. Then I heard it. The long unmistakable sound of the Final Exhale. If you’ve ever heard that sound, you never forget it. Aaron’s eyes closed tight.
Princess took that moment to lunge forward. I don’t know if Aaron’s eyes had opened or not, but he fired, and the first bullet struck the big man in the gut. In the movies, being shot always knocked people back or spun them around. The only way I knew Aaron’s shot scored a hit was the dark circle blooming just above the waistline of the ill-fitting dress. The second shot came from Jack. What I saw was the exit-wound; a bloody softball-sized, jagged hole on the left side of Princess’ massive chest. I fired twice, both out of reflex, neither shot finding its mark. Aaron fired again, this shot entering just to the right of the nose, blowing out the back of the skull.
Princess stopped, staggered one more step, and toppled sideways, landing on the pavement with a meaty slap. Blood pooled out, a dark stain on the road. All this happened in a span of just a few heartbeats.
Stepping away from the car, I turned slowly in a complete circle, amazed that there was no sign whatsoever of a zombie moving towards us. There were a couple in the surrounding vehicles, but not a single one could be seen coming for us. All of the carnage around us was the once living. We’d killed living, breathing humans. Each one of us had a new weight for his conscience.
“Aaron…Jamie…search the bodies for weapons,” I broke the heavy silence. “Jack, come with me and let’s check those military trucks.”
The young man fell in at my side and we walked over to the trio of transport trucks. There were a lot of bullet holes in the tarps that covered the rear cargo areas. I also noticed an enormous black burn mark on the pavement, extending all the way to the ditch on the far side of the road.
Reaching the vehicles, the smell of death…of undeath was strong. I peered into the back of the closest and was not surprised to discover the upper-half of a torso all the way in the front of the open—but unfortunately empty of anything useful—bay. The head turned and it locked its dead eyes on me. Its arms reached, and it strained towards me, but its shirt was snagged on a piece of rotted human meat and bone preventing it from moving. Without hesitation, I brought my pistol up and fired, sending the torso to rot with the rest of the foul-smelling, dead meat at the rear of the truck.
The second truck was the scene of what must’ve been some vicious fighting. There were bullet holes everywhere, including shotgun-sized blasts in the bed that you could see through. I couldn’t begin to imagine what had happened. Blood was everywhere, but not one body remained.
The third truck proved to be the charm. The back contained what looked like field-packs along with a dozen M4s. Ther
e was a variety of gear as well as two crates full of plastic racks of ammunition. Jackpot!
In the cab I found the driver. He’d made the obvious decision to eat a bullet. I felt a little sick when I opened the door to pull him out and heard the tearing sound where the dried blood and whatever else had welded him in place. With a quick prayer, I turned the key in the ignition. After a few sputters and a puff of dark smoke, the engine roared to life.
Jack climbed in, his nose wrinkling at the stale smell of death that filled the cab. I allowed the engine to run a moment, watching Aaron and Jamie as they busted open the sliding doors that kept the many large containers of spring water secure. They waved a few times as each of the locks was broken.
I finally dropped the big truck into gear and slowly applied pressure on the gas pedal. There was a tugging sensation and very methodically we came free of the slight tangle, pushing a small compact car out of the way with the big front bumper.
“Soon as we get to that water truck, jump out and hop in the back,” I told Jack. “We’ll hand in the water. You just make it all fit.”
“We’re taking it all?” Jack asked incredulously.
“You see any signs of zombies?”
“Well…,” he actually looked around, “no.”
“We don’t get chances like this often,” I explained. “Unless something nasty shambles up, I plan on making this pay off. We’ll have to drive around and circle back to get to the road that will take us to the campground, or whatever it was. If we can get all that water…” I laughed, “well then, all we’ll need to worry about is food.”
***
With literally hundreds of big, blue plastic containers loaded, as well as a few assorted finds, including almost a hundred gallons of gasoline, the guns, a dozen or so road flares, and a military-issue first aid kit, we headed back towards the road that would lead us to the campsite. My biggest fear was the scattered amount of zombies we passed on the way. This truck was a dinner bell for the zombie. Slowly they would turn and fall in to the growing horde in pursuit.