Valley of Death, Zombie Trailer Park

by William Bebb

CHAPTER 15

  Home Again & To the Dump

  The silver trailer glittered like sterling silver in the nearly noonday sunlight as Josey and Billy climbed out of the drainage ditch they’d spent the last half hour traversing.

  “I think Boris needs to go on a diet. My arm's killing me,” Josey whispered, as they looked around the trailer's backyard. It looked deserted and he whispered, “Let’s go and keep your eyes peeled, kid.”

  They had only walked a few steps when a man wearing a black uniform came around the far corner of the trailer. He was looking rapidly in all directions and appeared to be an older, sort of lanky man, wearing a bulletproof vest with big white letters spelling ICE on his chest.

  “All right,” Josey said, smiling. “Hey, you, don’t shoot! We’re not-” he didn’t get to finish his explanation that they weren’t infected or undead as the man turned, saw them, howled, and started sprinting toward them.

  The man in black was moving faster than anyone Josey had seen since coming down in to the valley and even if the scream hadn’t convinced him that he was bad news, his bleeding eyes and outstretched bloody ripped sleeves of his shirt did.

  Boris made an indignant woof noise when Josey dropped him to the ground.

  He quickly said to Billy, “If you get a chance to get by him, run for the trailer.”

  Billy started to say something, but Josey had already stepped forward between him and the onrushing screaming man.

  Josey could just make out the name Gilmer stenciled on the ICE agent’s shirt pocket, as he swung the sword and circled away from the boy and dog. “Hey, Gilmer, can you understand me?” he asked, as the lanky man grabbed for him.

  They moved further away from Billy as Gilmer seized Josey's arm and leaned forward to bite it.

  Josey saw Billy standing between them and the dog while pumping up his rifle even though the boy had an easy escape route to the trailer. He looked for any indication that Gilmer was anything more than a mindless homicidal monster once he'd yanked his arm away and backed away. But as he chewed then spit out the thick leather patch of coat sleeve Josey figured out the answer and swung the sword. It sliced across Gilmer's chest and then feeling incredibly stupid, Josey realized the blade would never cut thru a vest designed to stop bullets.

  Crap on a cracker! That's just what we need- bulletproof zombies! He thought backing further away from the boy and dog and trying to keep Gilmer's attention.

  Josey pulled back the sword to stab at Gilmer's neck or head, he hadn’t really decided which, when Mrs. Remlap called out through the open back doorway, “Billy! Get your little butt over here and right now, mister!”

  In spite of the yelling old lady, Billy focused all his attention and fired the rifle. The boy's aim was excellent and the pellet hit Gilmer squarely in his butt. As the pellet went straight thru his pants the crazed ICE agent screamed loudly and leaped up in the air in surprise.

  Turning away from Josey and spotting the boy, he growled.

  Billy was already quickly pumping the rifle again as he stood protectively in front of the dog sprawled in the sand.

  Had Gilmer not turned after being shot, Josey would have sworn the sword's blade would have hit along his neck. Instead, it hit the back of his head about an inch short of the top and sliced through both skin and hair before the blade briefly scraped along his skull.

  Gilmer howled as he ran at the boy. His loose scalp flapped back exposing more of the bloody skull beneath. Blood poured from his head wound, but he didn't seem to notice it. He was moving so fast that Josey knew he would reach the boy before he could catch up. He saw that Billy was aiming for Gilmer's head. Josey wanted to yell for Billy to run away, but felt sure the boy probably wouldn’t go.

  He’d only known the kid a little less than a day and yet he knew Billy would rather die than abandon the dog. Plus, he saw how fast Gilmer was running and doubted the boy could even keep pace with him let alone outrun the man. So, he yelled as he limped after him, “No Billy! Not his head. Shoot him in the balls!” While sincerely hoping Gilmer wasn’t wearing a protective cup.

  Billy heard the advice, grinned in a somewhat demented way, and aimed lower before squeezing the trigger.

  The results were a memory the boy would always remember with more than a touch of a disturbing sadistic smile.

  The man that had was once been Gilmer felt the pellet as it burst his scrotum and stumbled in agony before falling and rolling in the dust, with his loose scalp flap hanging down over his face. Groaning a long soft mournful sound, he curled up in a fetal position just a few feet from the boy.

  Josey looked around as he limped over, but didn’t see any other attackers in the area and swiftly stabbed the sword down into Gilmer's ear.

  The lanky man's body shook for a few seconds then was still.

  “I’m just glad you only shot my ear off earlier. Now get your ass in the trailer. I’ll get Boris,” Josey whispered, wiping the blood off the sword on Gilmer’s pants.

  They both heard a siren and a fast moving car somewhere nearby.

  Billy pointed behind Josey at a police car swerving wildly around the park. He turned and they both stared and watched it being chased by a pack of a few dozen people. Some were obviously Screamers and they ran far ahead of the rest of the pack. But it looked like most of the slower moving Deadheads were chasing it as well. The car was being driven erratically, kicking up clouds of dust and sand, as it picked up speed it was hard to see clearly.

  Billy shouted and pointed as it sped toward the exit, “I see Maria! She's over there on the roof! We’ve got to go save her!”

  Josey yanked the rifle out of the boy’s hand and picked up the dog. He felt his knee aching and was drenched in sweat again under the heavy coat. The sound of the car's engine roared for a moment more before a loud crash and explosion echoed across the valley.

  “Hey! No fair. Gimmee the rifle back. I’ll need it to save her,” Billy said, chasing after Josey who was headed for the backdoor of the trailer.

  Mrs. Remlap had a rolling pin clutched tightly in both hands as they hurried to the open back door.

  “Come on Billy, move faster,” Josey said wearily, as he limped quickly to the open doorway.

  Boris couldn't weigh more than thirty pounds, yet as Josey carried him the dog felt like a sack of concrete with fur.

  Billy ran ahead and shouted, “Grandpa! Maria needs help and Josey took my rifle! Make him give it back!”

  Phyllis Remlap took one hand off the rolling pin, grabbed Billy’s ear and pulled him off the ground and into the trailer as the boy hollered, “Let go! Owowheyow son of a-!”

  Billy was yanked inside and ran crying to his grandpa in the kitchen.

  Josey lifted the dog into the trailer and turned to look where the girl stood on the roof of the utility building.

  “Now you, get your ass in here,” Mrs. Remlap whispered.

  “Not yet, hand me the binoculars for a second and some water bottles. I need to go check and see if Billy's right about something,” he said, gesturing to the old building where his truck sat shining in the noonday sun.

  A minute later, Billy was crying loudly inside the trailer as Josey focused the binoculars on the utility building. He stared at a beautiful girl sitting on the top of the wall of the utility building and wondered what she was doing. She was only a few yards from the rear of his truck and apparently staring across the park toward the burning cars and bus by the exit.

  She's not going to jump from there. It's got to be at least twelve feet high, he thought.

  She looked around to see if anyone was near the truck before jumping down.

  Josey gasped in shock when she hit the ground.

  She tried to stand and fell back down in the dust. As she crawled toward the truck, Josey swore under his breath and glanced wearily up at Mrs. Remlap.

  “Okay, you've wasted enough time, now get in here,” the old woman said quietly.

  “I can't,” Josey sighed, while shaking his he
ad. “Hand me a few of those water bottles and lock the door after I go,” he said, and used the binoculars to see what was happening at the park exit. It was hard to see clearly because of the black smoke filling the air near the burning vehicles.

  Mrs. Remlap handed him a few water bottles while muttering something about, “Not being a jackass,” as he limped toward his truck.

  He looked at the huge fire at the exit and shook his head again. I'm going to die. Maybe the old lady’s right. Maybe I am being a jackass. Maybe I am the stupidest man on the face of the earth, and now I'm probably going to die. Shit, he thought while trying to limp faster. Or... am I actually making the right move?

  Again, he felt that time was running out. If armored, heavily armed, police couldn't handle the situation how much longer will it be before some crazy general orders a nuke to be dropped on all of us? Maybe he was letting his imagination run wild, but after the last day and a half he didn't think so. Time was running out. He could feel it.