No Room In Hell (Book 2): 400 Miles To Graceland

by William Schlichter

  Even after Kaleb gained his information, he beat Danziger. She spots no movement from either of her companions.

  Mid-afternoon sun and her white flesh has moved from pink in spots to full blown red.

  If she doesn’t twinge, her arms don’t hurt.

  Snarls.

  Instinctually, she whips her head toward the moan-howl. Muscles twinge, bind, locking her head to the side as her body betrays her. Part of her wants to give up. Just let the monster take her. The part of her wanting to live and save her friends consumes her. She twists until she spots the gray mound of flesh shambling toward her. With any luck, he’s a loner.

  Everything she does in the next second will make her an old woman physically if she lives. Blood drips from her bindings as she lifts herself into the air, dropping her calf muscles onto the creature’s shoulders. She locks her feet together keeping one leg under its jaw preventing a bite. She does sink into the gooey wet warm compost of flesh. Her body enjoys the release of pressure from being suspending for hours, but she has no time to relax. The crumpled undead body works as a step-stool allowing her to reach the branch with her fingers. She climbs into the tree avoiding teeth on her naked flesh.

  “Danziger,” she calls as loud as she dares. “Tony.” As Kelsey works the knot lose, the branch cracks. She yelps as the branch cracks enough to dump her feet off the biter step-stool. She summons enough force to kick the creature’s chest. A footprint imprints on its rotten pectoral muscle.

  It claws at her.

  “Hey! Fuck bag,” Danziger screams at the monster.

  More interested in the new noise, it lumbers away from Kelsey.

  Forced to witness one last torture, Kelsey chomps her bottom lip to stifle her impotence as the creature face plants into Danziger’s chest taking out a hunk of skin. He has no screams left or he keeps them back not wanting to draw anymore undead. Soon he will find an end to his pain.

  The branch snaps as Kelsey works the knot loose. It falls, tree bark scraping her in a dozen places. The worst was the sharp splinters drawing across the fresh burns.

  One habit of the dead is never finishing a large meal. Her fall draws the creatures toward her over the immovable feast. The biter claws at her but hasn’t the reach to grab her before she slips her bound wrists over the end of the splintered branch. She flips the heavy branch over using it as ballast to knock the creature down. Once on its back, she lifts the end of the branch up, crashing it against the biter’s skull three times before it caves in enough to kill it.

  With careful skill, she grinds the rope against the monster’s teeth, working frays into her bindings. Once free, she lies in the grass, her body refusing to move.

  When muscle control returns to her, she calls out. “Danziger, are you alive?”

  “I don’t have much choice in the matter.”

  “You don’t. When I move again—”

  “You need to move before I turn. Where’s Tony?”

  Something crawls though the warm blood of her scratches. Insects march over her naked body. Kelsey works up onto her elbows.

  Hemorrhaging blood covers Danziger like a robe from the chest down. The bite festers. “I hear Tony’s breathing slowing.”

  Kelsey raises enough to survey the empty campsite—nothing. It takes her ten more minutes to get to her knees. Being barefoot or running around inside in socks is not the same as being outside in a field. The brutalization leaves her weak and her feet haven’t built up calluses to withstand the impact of hard ground. Her muscles ache. Her skin hurts. Her thighs hurt. She must pee again.

  She holds it.

  “I don’t want to be one of those things,” Danziger begs.

  Kelsey wants to curl up and cry. She has had everything taken from her and now she must kill a friend—maybe two—three. Ethan. She has murdered Ethan as well.

  It takes all the strength she has left in her arm to tear free the thickest green branch off the branch she was tied to. It doesn’t have enough heft for her purpose. She crawls to the remains of the fire. The only evidence of the attackers having been there—other than the burns on her chest and back. She drags a charred fence rail. It has the weight she desires.

  Each step stings her feet. She’s never been one for going shoeless. “Danziger?”

  “Don’t…don’t let me become one of those things.”

  “You know what you ask?” She raises the board. Bringing it down with all her weight and energy she cracks it against the side of his skull splitting the ear open.

  Danziger bites his lip.

  Kelsey raises the board again. She slams it against his skull three times. Danziger still breathes, never calling out. Not wanting to leave her with guilt for her merciful actions.

  She clubs Danziger more times than she counts until she breaks open his skull. She collapses on top of his lifeless body.

  Kelsey’s own finger raw from gripping the board, she has no choice but to crawl on her elbows to the tree where Tony’s bound.

  “I don’t know how to cut you free.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever walk again,” his voice now is high pitched.

  “I won’t leave you.” She breaks down next to him.

  “We need water and shelter and weeks in rehab. I need a burn unit. You…”

  “You’re not a medic.” Just hold me. She nuzzles against him.

  “You need to untie me.”

  “I need to just—” Kelsey whimpers without tears. “I just bludgeoned Danziger to death. It wasn’t quick or painless like all the head shots I make. Kaleb needs to pay for every blow he forced on me.”

  “We haven’t the luxury of comfort. If I’m going to live, I need to move. You need to move. We’re going to stiffen and we need water,” Tony scolds her.

  “He should have killed us. Now I have to live with knowing I sold out our people.” Ants crawl over her ankles.

  “The camp wasn’t sold out. Just Ethan. Even if they don’t locate him on the way to Memphis, the camp will be safe.”

  “First, water. Shelter. Tomorrow do we go after Kaleb?” She works her bleeding fingers into the rope knot securing Tony.

  “I need medical help. We lack the ability to travel. We’re going to die,” Tony says.

  “If we go after Kaleb at least we die trying to correct betrayal.”

  “I wanted the pain to stop. I prayed we’d tell before he burnt me. It’s on all of us.”

  She releases the knot. “I won’t be much of a crutch.”

  He lies on his side, “I’m telling you, girl. I can’t walk. You’re going to have to go on alone.”

  Kelsey crawls close. The backs of both Tony’s legs have been melted to the bone.

  “CHAD, WHAT DID you do before?” Becky asks.

  “Worked at the lumberyard. Stupid aspirations of saving money for college. I was never going to go. I’m not sure I wanted to, but if you didn’t go right after school you were working to go. I felt better to say than I don’t have any idea what to do with my life. Everyone thought I should make something of myself, but no one offered any real ideas.”

  “I didn’t get much direction, either,” Becky agrees. “Dental assistant school was my goal.” She smiles.

  “I played football, but not good enough for college. Grades were average. Some days I considered the military. There just wasn’t any guidance on which direction to take in life.”

  “There never was,” Ethan says.

  “You’re some kind of genus. You know so much.”

  “Near genius, but I never felt school gave me any guidance, either. I just had an idea of what I wanted to do.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nice try. I know about the betting pool on my past career.” Ethan smiles.

  “Didn’t I see that in a movie?” Becky asks.

  “I’m sure if you watch enough films you’ll encounter most of life’s scenarios. Writers take from real life. Many from events they experience or witnessed. Sometimes things happen in real life yo
u can’t make up. Human survival is no new concept. The struggle to overcome never changes just the obstacles.” Ethan halts, drawing his .357.

  Becky unsheathes both her machetes. She’s never known Ethan to draw the shiny weapon he uses to distract his enemies while he quick-draws his Berretta.

  A lioness charges Ethan.

  Before his brain asks how there is a lion in Missouri, his .357 booms eight thunderous detonations.

  The Berretta sends seven more shots into the wild, African-born beast before the smoking magnum bounces on the pavement. The creature dies as it slides, still barreling toward him, skittering to a halt inches before it could leap and bring Ethan down.

  “It’s like running into Bill Murray in central Park—no one’s going to believe this.” He scoops up his magnum, flipping open the cylinder. He pockets the still smoking empty cartages.

  “You just killed a fucking lion.”

  “Need a change of underwear?” Becky asks.

  “Yeah.” He drinks from his canteen. Ethan loads his magnum. “Must have escaped from a zoo or one of the several tiger sanctuaries in the state.

  “That was a lion.” Shock freezes Chad.

  “They take in all big cats. Took my daughters once.” He places a fresh clip in his Berretta and holsters the .357. Drawing a knife, he approaches the fallen beast. “She looks well fed. I wonder why she attacked us.”

  “That…was…a lion,” Chad’s brain stammers on one thought.

  “Snap out of it,” Becky scolds.

  Chad swings his rifle from his shoulder, ready to fire in case the beast still breathes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I never believed in hunting for trophies. Food, yes, sport if the meat gets eaten. But never for trophies. It’s wrong. But I just killed a lion. I want proof. We’re too far from home to take the hide. I’ll take a claw and we’ll see what lion steaks taste like tonight.”

  “You’re going to eat it.” Becky face squints, grossed by the thought.

  “I won’t have killed it for nothing.”

  A horse bolts from the tree line. It gallops past at full speed. The shrills of birds pierce the air as flocks fill the sky in droves large enough to blot out the sun.

  Ethan sheathes the blade.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Chad raises his rifle to draw a bead on the buck bursting from the trees.

  “Move!” Ethan races to the barbed wire fence protecting a field.

  More deer—does, bucks and fawns charge past then leap the fence.

  Ethan smashes down the top row of rusted wire and leaps into the field. His companions follow.

  “What the fuck!”

  Chasing the deer, a black bear sprints down the road. It mashes through the wire.

  Ethan run-hop-steps away from all the trees around the field.

  “Tell me what happening,” Becky demands.

  Cattle trot following the bear. More forest creatures. Foxes, squirrels, opossums, raccoons, deer whisk by bolting past animals that should be eating each other now move with a new-found brotherhood.

  “You’re not going to like the answer.”

  Dozens of dogs—most domesticated—dash by chased by hundreds of cats. The meows are nearly as deafening as the fainting bird squawks. Trailing the pack are thousands of rats and mice. They skitter at full speed. Chad hops from foot to foot eluding the gray river flowing past. The rodents take no notice of them, leaving the three to stand in a field of perfect calm. No squeaks or squawks, a moo or a whinny, and a bit of breeze to rustle a leaf.

  Perfect stillness.

  Ethan finds himself face down in the grass. The thunderous rattle of dozens of big trucks shakes them—only no passing trucks. The ground rolls like a wave cresting for a surfer then slams into the beach. Ethan and his companions are tossed into the air. They land on still shaking dirt. Becky crashes on top of Ethan.

  Limbs snap.

  Trees fall.

  The cracking of a million eggs fills the air. The rumbling slows. As the jarring nears its end, a fireball fills the distant horizon.

  Ethan counts.

  When they finally hear the pop of the explosions he calculates that its more than twenty miles off.

  The rubbles subside.

  Ethan staggers to his feet.

  “Was that—”

  “Without a seismograph, I don’t know, but I’m guessing that the last time anyone felt an earthquake like that in this state, church bells rang in Canada and the Mississippi ran backwards for eight hours.”

  ALL THREE DOGS in Acheron howl.

  Wanikiya dries his hand on a dish towel, stepping from the kitchen in time to witness all the horses bolting across the field.

  “What’s the matter with the animals?” Nina asks.

  Wanikiya grabs her, pulling Nina away from the building. Before he drags her under the metal framed picnic table, the ground shivers.

  “What’s…” Nina never finishes her question.

  The ground shakes. A car alarm blears in the distance. Muffled screams echo over the rumble.

  Wanikiya lost count holding on to the table, but no more than twelve seconds transpired. “Stay out of the building.”

  Inside his kitchen, all pots and pans decorate the floor. Thankfully, the food plates are plastic. Power remains on for the moment. First chance I get the dam gets a full inspection. The frogman gets to earn his keep. Wanikiya flips off the stove burner before snagging the two radios from their cradles, maneuvering past the scattered mess.

  Nina emerges from the picnic table. “Why can’t we go back inside? People have to be hurt.”

  “They are.” He raises the radio mic to his mouth. Before pressing the talk button, he adds, “Stay out here. There are bound to be aftershocks. Aftershocks kill more people than the initial quake.” He speaks into the radio. “This is Wanikiya. Status report.”

  Resonating beeps chirp back as everyone seems to answer at once. Wanikiya accepts his mistake and orders, “Listen. Front gate report.”

  “We seem to be intact.”

  “Good. Open and shut the gates make sure they remain on their tracks. Stay off and away from any structure that could slip in an aftershock. Send a patrol to inspect the fence line. Breaches are a current priority. Dam report?”

  “We’ve are inspecting the dam and cutting back generator power.”

  “Proceed.” Wanikiya defers to the judgment of those engineers, but he knows those listening on the radios need everything to be under control. “Dam security?”

  “No breaches. Already inspecting our fence line,” Zeke responds.

  “Affirmative. All farm hands and fence builders. Report to the community center. Bring any wounded. We’ll organize inspections teams as account for everyone in the camp. Don’t get cocky, people. Our fences have held, but a falling book case could have injured someone.” Wanikiya hesitates, but he must warn his people, “Prepare for aftershocks. “

  “What do we do here?” Nina asks

  “We’ve never had a preparedness plan for this. The world ended and biters became the only natural disaster of consequence. We forgot about Nature and our relationship to the Great Spirit.”

  “I need to do something. People are hurt and I’m standing here.” Nina fidgets.

  “We get the census and evacuate this building. We need a check point to account for everyone.”

  “Bet we have a plan for the next disaster,” she attempts humor, but still fidgets.

  “Preparing for a harsh winter was underway.”

  “I don’t want to imagine if this has occurred with two feet of snow on the ground,” her fidgeting increases.

  Emily stumbles out the door. A gash in her forehead drips blood. “I have to check on Dartagnan. He will be in full panic.”

  “Did you hit your head?” a question Wanikiya knows he’ll be asking frequently.

  “The counter, I think.”

  He escorts the teen to the picnic table. “I’ll send a recovery team there first
.”

  “He doesn’t deal well with anyone else since Ethan’s gone. Even Sanchez is outside the fence.” Blood dribbles down the side of her face.

  “You sit here. I’ll get Dr. Baker to clear you and we’ll get you to Dartagnan.”

  Wanikiya closes his eyes and draws in the deepest breath possible. Holding it, he accepts as leader he must protect his people. Fences are first. However, earthquakes turn animals wonky. He never studied the sciences beyond basic classes, and none of them would have a chapter on undead during a trimmer, but earthquakes create noise and destroy structures creating more noise. The biters will be in more of a panic than any of his people.

  “HOW DID YOU get so lucky to get a room, Sanchez?” Private Combeth loads the belt into the 50-caliber machinegun atop the Humvee.

  “What do you mean?” Amie asks. She scans the field through binoculars.

  “Only a few of the soldiers got assigned actual rooms. The rest are housed in the gym at the bottom of the waiting list for private bedrooms. We’re behind all those people already living here.”

  “I don’t know. It was a single room.”

  “This is your second mission you’re commanding. What’s your secret?” Combeth asks.

  “I’m not spreading my legs if that’s what you’re wondering,” Amie snaps.

  “Maybe you should. That Ethan cat runs this place. He’s a fucking god to these people,” he says.

  She touches her chest at the top of her cleavage. The silver cross given to her during her Quinceañera remains under her uniform. “Don’t blaspheme.”

  “I forgot you’re a holy roller,” says Combeth.

  “I’ve faith. In these end times, we all should turn to God.” She never pushes her faith on anyone but it seems good advice.

  “The dead walking around is a great indication God split.”

  “It’s all part of his plans.” Amie hides her concern this is no longer true. No God would create monsters to eat children.

  “Was it part of His plan for you to get a bed while the rest of us have a fart saturated cot? Hell, the training barracks were more private than the gym. And smelt better.”