by Wimer, Kevin
The woman thrashed around in her seat. The seatbelt kept her firmly in place. Chris narrowed his eyes as he looked on. She had died before unhooking her seatbelt. He wasn’t sure why he found that so odd, but he did. He wondered if the woman had pulled into the parking lot looking for help to only be surrounded by the undead. He wondered if she had panicked—causing her to not unhook her seatbelt. Chris took a breath as the thrashing sounds in the back of the minivan echoed louder. He wondered if it had been one of the kids who had bitten her—causing her to turn into one of the walkers. It was questions that Chris knew he would never know the answers to—not that it really mattered now. Chris stood looking at the woman as the sound of an engine starting up caused him to look away. He looked towards the sound and found Tex sitting in the driver’s seat of a pickup truck. The truck looked as if it had seen better days. The cab of the truck was green, and the doors were blue while the hood and fenders and bedside of the old truck were red. It looked as if it had been put together by using multiple trucks. The only reassuring thing about the truck was that the engine sounded healthy.
Chris watched as Tex put the truck into gear and backed out and around a couple of vehicles and then drove over to where he now stood.
“What you got?” Tex asked.
Chris shrugged his shoulders as the woman in the front seat snarled and thrashed around. She banged her head against the glass while trying to break free from her restraints. The van rocked back and forth as the kids in the back began to thrash around too. Chris turned and looked at Tex whose eyes were as big as sauces and his complexion a pale pasty white. The two men looked at each other and knew what needed to be done. Chris started to say something, but it was Tex who spoke first.
“We can’t just leave them here . . . Not like this,” his words were flat and hollow. His voice had an air to it that was bone chilling cold. “We need to—”
“Yeah I know,” cutting Tex, “I’ll do it . . . I just need a minute to prepare myself . . . I have never had to kill . . .”
Chris’s voice trailed off as Tex turned the truck’s engine off and got out. He understood what Chris was saying. He too had never had to kill one of the undead that was a child. It was unsettling. Tex had seen some bad shit in his time but this was something he had hoped to never see. He could only imagine the kids and how they looked. He could only imagine their names and thanked God he didn’t and would never know them. It was best if they remained nameless.
“You are not alone in this Chris.” It was the first time Tex had used his name and not Hoss, “You are a part of this group now,” looking at Chris who looked sickly pale, “We don’t do anything alone. We work together as a team and as a family,” his heart was pounding in the center of his chest as the van rocked back and forth and the hissing moans grew louder. “We will do what needs to be done . . . together.”
Chris started to take a step towards the van when Tex told him to hold up. He watched as Tex took a few steps towards the van—it rocked a bit more as he got closer to it. Tex looked over his shoulder at Chris and then back at the van. He could see nothing in the back-passenger area due to the tinted glass. He didn’t need to see to know that it had a group of kids—how many kids was anyone’s guess. Tex took a breath and let it out and mumbled a slew of curse words as he made his way to the front passenger side. He took his hat off and pressed his head against the glass of the passenger door. His legs weekend and his heart sank to the pit of his stomach at the sight inside. The woman in the driver’s seat was reaching out and growling but Tex paid her no attention. It was what he could see in the back of the van that caused him to feel such horror. He counted three kids and all three of them were of various ages. He guessed the youngest of the three to be about six years old and the oldest to be about twelve. The middle child couldn’t have been more than nine years old—give or take a year. He looked at hem and the state they were in. It looked as if they had fed on each other.
“Tex?” Chris said.
Tex took a breath and stepped away from the passenger side of the van. He placed his hat atop of his head as he looked at the van. It was as if the van held great evil and to be honest it did. He took a moment to try and clear his mind before he could look at Chris.
“We are going to have to kill them one at a time,” Tex said as he began to form a plan of action, “I’ll keep the . . .” Stopping himself as he started to use the word kids. He knew those things in the back of the van were no longer kids, they were monsters that lusted for blood and brains, “I’ll keep the passengers busy. You open the driver’s side door and take care of . . . Take care of that problem,” looking at at Chris who nodded his head, “Once you are done, we will deal with the remaining problem together.”
Chris stood by the driver’s side door as he waited for Tex to make a move. The woman looked at him—her eyes blood shot and teeth gnashing together. Chris started to ask Tex what was taking him so long when the man began banging on the side of the van. He whooped and hollered as he went down the passenger side of the van—striking it with the palms of his hands as he went. Chris pulled a bowie knife from its sheath as he opened the driver’s side door. The woman was fixated on Tex and the loud banging sound that he was making. She no longer cared about Chris. It was the noise on the passenger side that occupied her and her hunger. Chris brought his arm up and then with a swift motion he brought the blade of the knife down and into the top of her head. He felt the blade breaking through the bones of her skull before reaching the soft tissue of her brain. Chris twisted the knife in a semi-circle as he turned her brains to mush. He watched as her body went limp and she slumped over. His stomach began to twist into knots—the taste of bile clung to the back of his throat. He quickly shut the door and turned his head and began puking. He heaved until he had nothing left to throw up.
Chris wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket as he faced the van. The woman now lay with her head against the driver’s side window. The glass was coated in a thick crimson red. Tex was still whooping and hollering like a madman—beating and banging on the side of the van. He had been paying no attention to Chris. His job had been to keep the little monsters inside occupied and he was doing one hell of a job. Chris pushed the image of the woman out of his man and forced himself to run to the passenger side of the van. He was two steps away when Tex stopped beating the side of the van and stepped away from it. The hissing moans from within the van echoed as it rocked back and forth. It was like a caged animal trying to get out.
Chris took a deep breath and let it out as he spoke.
“How do you want to do this?”
Tex shrugged his shoulders. It wasn’t as if he had been trained to do this. Tex was in uncharted waters. He looked at Chris and then back at the van as the feeling of dread washed over him. He knew that what was about to happen would haunt him until his dying days. The images would forever be burned into his mind—forever etched into the darkened recess of where all the bad shit he had seen and done throughout his life was kept. It was just one more thing to add to a long list of things.
“I can open the passenger bay door just enough to let one of them out at a time,” narrowing his eyes as he stared at the passenger bay door while his heart beat a tick faster, “We can wait for them to come shambling out and kill them one by one.”
Tex listened to his words and the sound of his voice. It was ice cold—colder than he had ever remembered his voice being before. He had learned long ago how to shut off his emotions and how to feel nothing at all. It was both a gift and a curse. He knew that one day this very moment along with all the others that he had been able to shut out would come rushing back in. It would haunt him until he took his final breath. Today is not that day. Today, you just need to kill them . . . Set them free from this curse that has been bestowed upon them . . . Let them find peace.
Chris could feel his hands shaking as he answered Tex.
“Okay.”
The two men looked at each other and nodded. The pl
an was set. Tex would open the door and the first infected child to set foot outside the minivan would die. Chris wished he could shut off his mind and his emotions—these things inside this minivan were no longer kids. He knew they were no longer human—they were infected monsters who wanted nothing more than kill him and everyone they could find. Chris questioned himself and his motives. He questioned what he and Tex were about to do and why it was so damn important. The hissing moans grew louder as his thoughts echoed through his mind. You’re doing this to set them free. To allow them to have peace in the next world. Chris felt it was his duty to end their suffering—to release them from the grasp the virus held them in. He couldn’t leave them the way they were—monsters that lusted for blood and brains and all things living.
“Okay, get ready,” Tex said, his mouth nearly bone dry as he spoke, “I’m going to open it just wide enough for one of them to come out,” looking over his shoulder at Chris, “When the first one comes out, don’t think, don’t look at them as anything but what they are,” turning towards the van he took three steps and placed a hand on the handle of the bay door, “Whatever you do, don’t hessite . . . just kill them.”
Chris mumbled his words as he said okay. He wasn’t sure if he could do what Tex was asking him to do. He wasn’t sure he could stop his mind from seeing them as children. He wasn’t sure he could see them as being anything less than human. Chris’s heart thudded in the center of his chest as Tex pulled the latch and slid the door open. Tex started to take a quick step away when the first of the three kids stepped out. Chris’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was the youngest of the three. He looked at the little girl who had blond curly hair. She wore a shirt with Sesame Street characters on the front of it. His mind had done what he had asked it not to do. It had humanized the little girl—she was a child and not the monster he had envisioned. Chris fumbled for his knife as he took a handful of steps forward—his sanity fading as he took those very steps towards the little girl. He began to imagine her before the outbreak. He imagined her being just like most kids her age. He could hear her laughing and see the happiness in her eyes—her blood shot eyes. He forced his mind to stop picturing her as the sweet little girl that she had once been. He forced himself to see her as the monster that she now was. Chris gripped the knife in his hand. He began to raise it above his head—preparing himself to strike the blow that would end her. Chris was in mid motion when he froze—unable to drive the blade of his knife into her tiny skull. It was Tex who did the deed. Chris gasped as Tex drove the blade of his knife through the young girl’s skull—twisting it before pulling it out.
Tex had little time to think about what he had just done. He had just pulled the knife out of the young girl’s skull when the oldest of the three shambled out of the van and towards them. He started towards the boy when Chris rushed passed him—growling with rage. He watched as Chris drove the blade of his knife deep into the boy’s head. Chris was hysterical as he did so. Tex was frozen in place as he watched Chris repeatedly stab the young boy—turning his skull to mush. He watched as blood squirted from the wounds and covered Chris in a thick crimson red. He knew Chris had just lost his shit—he had lost control of himself as the perfect world he had been holding onto vanished. Tex shouted for Chris to stop. Chris turned and looked at Tex with eyes wide and filed with rage. Tex wanted to say something but there was no time. The middle child shambled out of the van and into the mess of her siblings. Tex started forward but it was Chris who drove the blade of his knife into her head and repeatedly stabbed her as blood and brain matter covered him.
Chris breathed heavily as he looked at the young girl and then at the other two kids lying on the ground in a pool of their own blood. He felt his legs going weak—his knees starting to buckler out from underneath him. He stumbled back a few steps and then fell to his hands and knees and began crying—crying like a child. Tex sheathed his knife as he walked over to Chris. He stood over the man and watched as he cried uncontrollably. He listened as Chris sobbed and mumbled words that were unintelligible. Chris had found his breaking point. He had found it six months after the outbreak. Tex looked on and wished that he could feel the same pain that Chris was now feeling. He wished he could release the haunting demons that he hid within himself just as Chris was doing now but he couldn’t. Tex felt nothing. He looked at the bodies that were lying in a pool of their own blood and felt nothing. It was that nothingness that would eventually eat away at him.
“Chris, we need to get going,” reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out a lollypop and unwrapped it and placed it into his mouth and moved it into his jaw, “We only have an hour so before nightfall . . . We need to move.”
Chris leaned back onto his haunches and nodded his head. He wiped the blood-soaked tears from his face and forced himself to stand. Tex looked at him for a moment. He watched as Chris swayed back and forth. He knew he should say something, but he had nothing to say. He had no words that would help Chris feel any less pain. Tex turned and began walking towards the truck he had found earlier. Chris took one last look at the three kids and then followed Tex to the truck. The two men said nothing as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the group. Chris could feel the blood that covered his face slowly trickling down the side of it. He did nothing to try and stop it from doing so. He sat in the passenger seat emotionless while staring at the road in front of him.
CHAPTER 12
Tex pulled through the intersection and came to a stop in front of the disabled truck. He looked at the truck and instantly felt angry. It was the trucks fault that he and Chris had had to do what they had just done. The images of those kids lying on the ground with their brains leaking from the gaping hole in their heads flashed through his mind. He gripped the steering wheel with his hands and gritted his teeth. Those kids were dead long before you and Chris showed up. Get over it. Move on. The callous voice inside his head echoed. You have bigger problems. You need to get everyone back to Graceland before nightfall. Tex turned and looked at Chris who had yet to say anything. Chris sat there looking through the windshield at the group in front of them. He noticed how Chris’s face looked expressionless—almost as if he was in shock. Maybe he was in shock. He knew that any normal person would be. Tex wasn’t normal. His heart and mind had been hardened to the ways of life and war long ago. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shed a tear. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt pain or sorrow. Maybe it was the day he had found his mother dead. Maybe he had been hardened long before that day too.
Tex turned and looked at the group who was now staring at the two men. He wondered what they must be thinking. He was sure they could see that the two of them were covered in blood—Chris more so than he. He looked at Cubbie who was now starting to walk towards them. He watched as Lailah moved down the line from one member of the group to the next. She was handing out water and some food and various other supplies. Tex was glad to see Lailah up and moving about and trying to comfort those within the group. She seemed to have recovered from her hysterical outbreak and was now back to normal or whatever normal was.
“Tex, what the hell took you guys so—”
Cubbie stopped in mid-sentence as he looked from Tex to Chris. His mouth now stood agape as his heart ticked a beat faster. Chris was covered in blood and what appeared to brain matter. He felt the feeling of shock consuming him and his thoughts. Chris looked worse than a B rated horror film. He was covered from head to toe in a thick crimson red gore that had bits and pieces of white particles that Cubbie knew was brain matter. He felt a chill washing over him. Chris kept his eyes forward and said nothing. He looked as if he had seen a ghost or something far worse. His complexion was a sickly pale white. Cubbie wondered what the two men had seen and done.
“We ran into some walkers,” Tex said, skipping the part about the walkers being kids and that that had killed them, “Is everyone okay and ready to go?”
Cubbie shook his head as he spoke.
Tex noticed the look on Cubbie’s face. It said it all without him having to say a word. Cubbie could see that Chris looked to be in a bit of a shocked state. It was also evident that the two of them had seen and done something that was damn near unspeakable. Tex was sure Cubbie had questions but it was a discussion for another time—right now they needed to get their asses in gear and get back to Graceland. Daylight was fading fast.
“Get everyone loaded up,” looking at Cubbie who now looked at him, “We need to get back on the road. It won’t be long until dark,” taking a breath and letting it out, “We are in no man’s land and the sun is setting . . . I don’t want to be out here with our asses hanging in the breeze.”
Cubbie looked over his shoulder at Lailah who was now staring at him. He could see a hint of worry on her face. She had recovered from her outburst, but he knew it wouldn’t take much for her to totally shut down. She needed some rest. She needed to feel safe. Cubbie would do whatever it took to give her what she needed. He loved her.