John, Derek and Amy glanced at each other. They knew immediately she was a gomer.
Mike and Jane, who by this time heard her approaching, spun around and raised their weapons.
“No!” Amy screamed at the top of her lungs as they opened fire.
The hail of gunfire ripped the old lady’s gomer to shreds and dropped her in the middle of the street.
“Damn it!” Amy said.
“Are you starting to get a soft spot for these gomers?” John asked.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Mike and Jane walked over to the body and stood over it admiring their handy work.
“One shot to the head would have done the trick,” Derek commented.
“What about your theory?” John asked Amy. “Are you trying to say I did the wrong thing with Susan?”
“No John,” she said looking into his eyes. “You did the right thing and I’m sure putting the old lady down was the right thing too. They just went about it the wrong way.”
“I agree, it could have been done more humanely. Like Derek said. But remember they don’t understand what they’re dealing with. They’re all the same to them. Anyway, she’s not suffering now. It’s over for her.”
“I know it’s just that, watching them blow her to pieces like that was like watching someone torture and kill a puppy you know?”
“Yeah I know,” John said.
“More and more I’m starting to see the gomers as, well, real people and not monsters,” Amy said.
“Which takes us back to the fact that they could very well be inside there. Conscious of everything that’s happening but powerless to do anything about it. Just along for the ride.”
“Exactly,” Amy said. “In reality she may have been asking for it. Literally.”
“Right.”
“Hey,” Jane said. “You guys want to team up?”
“No,” John answered, “we have to get going but good luck.”
“Ok, you too,” the woman said, “maybe we’ll see you again sometime.”
“Look forward to it,” John said turning his back to them, then added. “Not.”
“I’ll second that,” Derek added. “We need to get as far away from these two as possible.”
Derek pulled up the anchor then climbed back up to the bridge with John while Jimmy and Amy went inside the cabin. Mike and Jane watched as Derek started the boat and took off across the water. Mike waved back as Jane fired three shots from the rifle straight up into the air.
“I’ll be very surprised if those two make it,” John said.
“I know,” Derek said, “they’ll wind up accidentally shooting each other.”
Derek pushed the throttle forward until the front of the boat was high in the air. Inside the cabin Jimmy was tossed off the couch and landed on the floor beside Suzie. Amy was busy trying to clean up a puddle of dog pee which was now racing toward the rear of the cabin.
“I think we should go straight to the light house,” Derek said having to raise his voice to be heard over the rush of air and noise from the engines.
John gave him a thumbs-up as he sat on the seat reloading the rifle. When he was finished he took the second seat beside Derek and sat back to enjoy the ride. It was a magnificent day. The water was calm. He strained to see the Morris Island Lighthouse as it passed off in the distance. Fort Sumter was passing on the right. He raised the binoculars. The fort was still crawling with zombies.
In the cabin Amy had finished cleaning up after Suzie and handed two bottles of water to Jimmy to take up to Derek and John. When Jimmy opened the cabin door to leave Suzie bounded out, ran to the side of the boat facing the fort and stood on her hind legs to put her front paws on the side. Then she let loose with a salvo of barks so loud it startled John.
“Wow she’s still pissed at those guys,” John said.
Jimmy grabbed her by the collar and led her back inside where Amy calmed her down by giving her a treat. Jimmy then climbed up to the bridge.
“Amy wanted me to bring you these,” he said handing Derek and John a bottle of water each.
“Thanks buddy,” John said.
Derek reached over, picked Jimmy up and set him in the drivers seat.
“You have the helm sir,” he said. “You can drive for a while.”
Jimmy grinned.
“Turn just a little to the left Jimmy,” Derek said. “You see that black and white lighthouse? We’re going to the inlet at the back of that island.”
Jimmy turned the wheel a little to quickly almost knocking Derek and John off their feet.
“Easy now,” Derek told him, “you have to turn it gently. At this speed the boat responds real fast.”
Derek helped him get the boat pointed in the right direction then stood beside the chair ready to take the wheel if needed. The boat traveled the rest of the way without incident. As they neared the channel Derek eased back on the throttle slowing the boat drastically. He set Jimmy down and took over. Feeling the boat slow Amy came out onto the deck.
“You need me to do anything?” she asked.
“Yeah,” John said, “you can throw me the rope when we get there. I’ll jump out to tie us off.”
“Ok.”
“You better stay up here with the rifle until we find a place,” Derek told him.
John took the rifle and settled in on one of the cushioned seats in front.
Slowly the boat entered the inlet and headed for the private docks about two thousand yards ahead. John scanned the docks with the binoculars. They were all empty except for one. A small dock with a small boat had a lone zombie standing at the end. Snarling. Watching them.
John waited until they were two hundred yards off and raised the rifle to sight in. He squeezed the trigger. A red mist erupted from its shoulder sending it spinning around. It spun, staggered to the side and fell in the water. John worked the bolt and fired again at the bobbing head in the water. The head jerked backwards then disappeared under the water.
“Nice,” Derek commented.
“Thanks,” John said. “Fish in a barrel.”
They continued on to the last dock on the right in a line of six. This one was large enough to accommodate them plus it had a large covered area with a grill and lounge chairs.
John checked the house and grounds around it. It was clear. The house was on stilts and sat in a clearing surrounded by trees and brush on either side and in the front that provided plenty of privacy. The driveway ran from the dock all the way to the street eighty yards away. A drive through wooden gate ran across from two brick pedestals on either side of the driveway. There was no way anyone would know what was going on in the little compound unless they came down the driveway and into the yard.
A white mid nineties model work van with the name of a local plumbing company painted on the side was parked in back. Under the house were two vehicles. A station wagon and a full size pickup truck. John was glad to see the truck but disappointed to see it was a foreign model. He never understood why anyone would buy a full size foreign pick up truck. Just didn’t make sense.
John climbed down as they neared the dock. As usual Derek eased it right in with no problem. Amy stood by with the rope as John stepped over. After the ropes were tied off, John took the shotgun and a leash they had made and walked Suzie to the end of the dock. She sniffed around for a minute then did her business beside a Palmetto tree. Derek stood guard with the rifle. When she was finished they went back to the boat.
They decided to check the house out. John and Derek checked their weapons again and grabbed the back pack just in case they found something worth keeping. They told Amy to shoot into the air if she saw anything while they were gone.
The house was less than fifty yards from the dock. It was a white house with green shutters. One story with a large deck built onto the back. The rear door stood wide open. The Volvo sat under the house with the trunk open.
They headed out. Amy and Jimmy took up position on the bridge and
were watching closely. Derek waved. They waved back. The fifty yards to the house felt more like fifty miles to John. He had gotten used to staying close to Amy and didn’t like the thought of leaving them alone. Even for a short while.
Cautiously they climbed the stairs. The creaking of the wooden steps seemed exceptionally loud to John. With Derek in the lead they gained the top and stepped onto the deck.
The smell of what John hoped was rotten food drifted out of the open door and slapped them in the face.
“It sure smells a lot better out on the water,” Derek said.
John nodded in agreement. They stepped through the door and into the kitchen. It was in disarray. Broken dishes littered the floor in front of the open cabinets. The refrigerator and freezer doors were open revealing spoiled meat, complete with maggots, rotting on the shelf.
They checked the living room and found nothing. As they were moving down the hallway John heard a muffled noise and stopped.
“You hear that?” he asked Derek.
“Yeah. Sounds like someone’s in there,” Derek said pointing to the door to the bathroom ten feet away.
They listened for a second, then continued on.
Stopping outside the door they heard it again. The sound of someone struggling.
“Sounds like someone is tied up and gagged,” Derek said.
John pointed the shotgun at the closed door and approached it. Reaching out with his hand he tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. He stepped back beside Derek.
“I’m going to open the door so be ready to shoot. I’ll open it and step to the side.”
John crouched and went to the door again. Standing to the side he turned the knob and pushed the door open. A muffled scream came out.
“Oh man,” he said, “check this out.”
Lying on the floor of the bathroom was a zombie. Female. Middle aged. Tied up and mouth gagged. It’s eyes wide with rage. When it saw them it kicked and growled through the gag.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Derek asked.
But before John could speak a rustling sound came from behind the shower curtain.
John and Derek looked at each other. Derek, holding the rifle by the butt, used the barrel to reach out and push the shower curtain back. Behind it, lying in the tub was another bound and gagged zombie. This one had her throat slashed from ear to ear but was still very much alive in a zombie kind of way. She struggled against the restraints. Her red, evil eyes glared at them through clouded corneas.
“Good God,” Derek said, “should we kill them?”
Before John could answer, Derek fired the rifle twice. The two zombie’s brains splattered against the bathroom fixtures. The shower curtain rustled in the rifle’s blast.
“You could at least warn me when you’re going to do that,” John said. “What the hell did you ask me for if you were going to shoot anyway?”
“They could get loose,” Derek said shrugging. “Why do you think they were tied up?”
“I don’t know but whoever it was could still be around. Keep your guard up.”
Leaving the bathroom they walked into the next bedroom. It looked like something out of the seventies. There was a waterbed in the far corner by the closet with silk leopard print sheets and a lava lamp sitting on top of the mirrored headboard. A dresser with an eighties style television sitting on top sat in front of it. A greasy open pizza box lay on the floor. In the corner of the room sat a pile of dirty clothes. An empty bottle of cheap Canadian whiskey sat on the bedside table beside a lamp, over flowing ashtray and alarm clock. Other than a Harley calendar the walls were bear.
With the shotgun at the ready John opened the closet accordion doors. Leaning against the wall in the corner partially hidden by hanging clothes was an M-16 automatic assault rifle. An older Vietnam era version with a black sling. John reached in and grabbed the weapon, dropped the magazine and checked it. It was full. He re-inserted the magazine and pulled the charging handle back to chamber a round.
“Sweet,” he said looking at Derek with a smile.
“Hell yeah,” Derek answered.
On the floor of the closet amongst the clutter was a large box of 5.56 ammo and two extra magazines. Both fully loaded. John handed the box of ammo to Derek who slipped it into the backpack they were carrying. The magazines he stuck in his back pocket.
“If you fire that 16 make sure its on semi John,” Derek said. “Fire discipline brother. It’s all about fire discipline. One shot one kill. We’ve only got one box of ammo for that thing.”
“Right,” John said making sure the safety was on and the gun was in the semi automatic position before slinging it over his shoulder.
“Who the hell still sleeps on a water bed,” Derek said poking the bed with the barrel of the rifle causing a wave to slosh back and forth. “Lava lamp. Silk leopard print sheets. The only thing missing is the velvet Elvis.”
John smiled. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”
They turned and went into the next bedroom. The room was sparsely furnished with a card table, which was on the far wall by the window, and a cheap computer desk with a laptop, an ashtray and a printer sitting on top. A bed-sheet covered the window.
In a backpack by the door were several rolls of duck tape, rope and large zip ties. A hunting knife and a pair of bloody gloves lay on the floor beside it.
“Hey look,” Derek said pointing to the gloves, “O.J.’s been here”
They both laughed nervously.
Spread out on the table by the window were pictures of five different women printed on plain printer paper. All bound and gagged. Two appeared to be the women in the bathroom and three others. All were alive when the pictures were taken except for one. A photo of a woman lying in a bathtub with her throat cut, blood covering her clothes. Obviously the same woman lying in the tub now.
“Looks like we found ourselves a serial killer,” Derek said.
“No shit,” John answered.
On the desk by the laptop were the keys to the two vehicles parked under the house. John picked them up and put them in his pocket.
“Evidently,” Derek said. “Whatever this disease or whatever was it also brought back the recently deceased.”
“Looks that way,” John said. “Just another wrinkle in the mystery.”
“Let’s check out the rest of the house,” John said, “nothing we can do about all this now. It’s not like we can call the police.”
Derek headed back out into the hallway, stopping when he heard two gunshots.
They raced out of the bedroom, through the kitchen, onto the deck and down the steps.
John reached the bottom in three strides. He saw Amy standing on the boat holding the gun. She was pointing in his direction.
“What is it,” he shouted.
“Behind you,” she screamed back.
John stopped and turned to see what she was pointing at.
“Man, that can’t be what it looks like,” Derek said looking over at John. “You see this shit?”
“Looks like he got another one,” John said.
The gomer, bent over from the strain of the weight he was pulling, was half way down the long driveway when he spotted them and stopped. On the ground behind him was another zombie. A female. Tied and gagged. Ropes were tied around its hands and ankles and a longer rope attached to the feet ran up to and around the gomer’s shoulders. It had been dragging it along the pavement face down. The zombie struggled against the restraints and turned over once he stopped. It’s face was basically gone. Rubbed away by the rough asphalt. Wild eyes stared back at them from a bloody nose-less and lipless face. The teeth were broken and jagged.
After staring at them for a moment the gomer dropped the rope and started for the back of the house. John and Derek held their weapons at the ready and stepped back. Both too curious as to the gomer’s next move to kill it. It continued past them glaring as it went.
“This is some weird shit,” Derek said.
; “Lets follow him and see what he’s going to do,” John said.
“Why, lets drop him now.”
“Not yet.”
John fell in behind the zombie and followed it up the steps with Derek close behind. They followed it into the house and down the hall to the bathroom where it stood staring down at the two dead women in the bathroom.
“Shoot it,” Derek whispered.
“No wait.”
Derek shook his head. “Dude…”
Putting both hands on the door jams the gomer leaned into the bathroom and screamed. Then it quickly backed out into the hallway and went into the bedroom with the waterbed. John and Derek followed, guns ready, as it went to the closet, opened the door, and, as if in a panic, searched through the clutter.
“It’s looking for the 16,” Derek whispered.
“I know,” John said handing the shotgun to Derek.
Un-slinging the M-16 from his shoulder, John took the weapon off safe and clicked the selector to full automatic.
“Hey,” he said loudly raising the gun to his shoulder, “looking for this.”
The gomer turned around, eyes piercing into John’s as it stood there. A look of frustration on its face.
John squeezed the trigger. The rifle jumped against his shoulder as the rounds left the barrel and traveled across the room slamming into the zombie’s body sending him flying into the wall behind him. John let the natural rise of the barrel walk the rounds up its torso sending the last few rounds into it’s face blowing it apart. He held the trigger until the magazine was empty.
The barrel smoking, the odor of gunpowder burning their nostrils, they watched as the zombie slid down the wall leaving a bloody streak.
“Nice fire discipline there Rambo,” Derek said.
“Sometimes you just have to go full rock-n-roll,” John said smiling and patting the rifle. “Now, wasn’t that more fun than just blowing his head off outside with one shot?”
“Can’t argue with that,” Derek answered his ears still ringing. “That was fun.”
“Well, you were right my friend,” John said.
“What?”
“This was one of those gomers that was a bad dude in real life. Just like you said there could be. Although I’m sure the one that jumped off the bridge this morning was a demon, this one… this one was a gomer that just happened to be a serial killer in real life,” John said.
The Demon Dead Page 23