Unhappily, though, more and more creatures emerged from the surrounding swamp. By the time Sadie opened the door and ushered me inside, perhaps forty undead creatures had converged on her front lawn.
Wearing a fretful expression, she peered out the nearest window. “Shoot, child. Don’t know where all deez comin’ from.”
I stood beside her, trying to catch my breath.
She turned to me. “T’anks for dat, boy. ’Preciate da help.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “But I seem to have a problem. It’s a long walk back to my van.”
“Yeah, ya right. Dat’s a lot of dead t’ings in my front yard, an’ dey jus’ keep comin’.” She sighed. “Dere’s a bottlin’ plant down da road. Wonder if dat’s where dey came from?”
Thanks to the moonlight, I could see that most of the zombies outside wore matching uniforms. Gray overalls, splashed with blood and black goo. Some had open wounds. Some were missing limbs or chunks of flesh. Some sported all of the above.
You know, the usual.
“Makes sense.” I watched as the horde continued to grow. “Exactly how many people are typically on a shift at the bottling plant?”
“How should I know? Maybe two hund’ed?”
I gazed at the undulating mass of undead. “Yep, seems about right.”
My rifle had maybe ten rounds left, so I certainly couldn’t shoot my way out.
I scanned the trees, noting even more zombies headed our way. “Why are they all gathering here? Shouldn’t some of them be heading to your neighbors?”
“Don’t got many,” she replied, “an’ da ones I do have prob’ly dead by now.”
“So, we’re the only food nearby?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Well, shit.”
Sugar sauntered across the yard, tearing through the zombies, but after a few minutes, the horde swarmed her, and she vanished from our view.
“She be OK,” Sadie assured me. “No way dey turn her over, an’ her top skin too tough for dem to bite t’ru.”
Well, sadly, I didn’t possess a hide as impenetrable as the alligator’s. And neither did Azazel.
Beyond the zombified mosh pit, I could see her through the windshield. She’d hopped onto the dashboard – searching for her daddy perhaps or just curious about all the moaning outside the van. Several zombies had spotted her and turned in her direction, but luckily, I’d locked all the doors – and the windows were fortified.
She was likely safer than I was. Too bad I’d never taught her how to drive.
Who am I kidding? She’d probably throw it in reverse and leave her dumbass daddy behind.
Desperate to return to my cat, I asked, “Is there a way out the back?”
Sadie shook her head mournfully. “Da house back up to da bayou. Too deep to walk, so ya gotta swim. Den anudder gator might getcha. Dey active ’bout now.”
“Zombies to the left of me,” I murmured. “Gators to the right. Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.”
She flashed me a puzzled look. “Whatcha say?”
“Nothing.” I sighed. “Just remembering an old song.”
Recognition dawned in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I ’member dat one.” She hummed a verse.
“Look, Sadie, I gotta get outta here. Clare’s waitin’ for me.”
My tone bordered on whiny, but I didn’t care.
With a nod, she abruptly stopped humming and waddled toward the rear of the small house. I followed her to a sliding glass door, through which I spied a narrow porch, lined with rosemary plants, and a bayou less than twenty feet away. A rickety dock led into the moonlit water, and a flat-bottomed Cajun pirogue floated beside the pylons.
A dream fishing camp – if not surrounded by zombies.
“I could ring da suppa bell,” Sadie suggested, pointing to a nearby pecan tree, where two ropes hung from a low branch – one bound to a metal tire rim and the other tied to a giant bolt. “Used to be how I called my boys home for suppa.”
She wore a wistful expression, as if remembering happier days – back when her family lived with her and she regularly cooked for them. Probably a giant pot of gumbo or jambalaya.
I longed to ask Sadie where her children had gone – and if they were even still alive – but it didn’t seem like the most ideal time for a heart to heart.
“Well,” I said, “I don’t know if it’ll be enough to lure the zombies back here, but it’s the only plan we’ve got.” I turned to Sadie. “I can ring it until most of the zombies reach the sides of the house. Hopefully, that’ll clear the front yard a bit, enough for me to run through your place and out the front door.” My brow furrowed. “But will you be OK after I go?”
She smiled warmly. “Don’t worry ’bout me, child. Da rosemary’ll hold ’em back.” She winked. “An’ I gotta few udder tricks up my sleeve.”
“Alright then. If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure. Like ya said, ya wife waitin’ for ya.”
Quietly, we slid the door open, and leaving my rifle behind, I ventured toward the supper bell. I tried to walk as carefully as possible, but the wooden porch and weathered steps creaked nonetheless. Not that it mattered – the collective moaning out front likely drowned out my footsteps.
Once I reached the tree, I grabbed the dangling bolt and turned around. Sadie gave me a thumbs-up, and with a deep breath, I started banging on the rim – which made an ungodly racket.
No wonder it had worked as a supper bell. The clanging sounds likely drifted far across the bayous, where her husband and kids once fished, telling them to come home for the night.
Only, I wasn’t looking out at the water. I was watching the perimeter of Sadie’s house. After a minute or so of constant clanging, several zombies appeared on either side, avoiding the rosemary plants and trudging toward me. When at least a hundred walking corpses seemed to be headed my way, and the pathway back to the house had shrunk to a perilous width, I figured the time had come to make a break for it.
But just then, Sadie hollered, “Da boys are comin’!”
“What?” I yelled, still whacking the rim with the bolt.
She pointed toward the water behind me. For a split second, I assumed her husband and sons were headed home, but when I whirled around, I spotted at least a dozen lengthy gators swimming toward the shore.
“Holy crap!”
Most people likely believed that gators were only fast in the water, but they’d be dead wrong. The damn things could display bursts of speed exceeding thirty miles per hour. And as surprising as this revelation might seem… I, myself, couldn’t run thirty miles an hour. Not even the fastest human on the planet could – and I was pretty fucking far from the fastest.
“Come on, you gotta be kidding!” I dropped the bolt and sprinted toward the back porch.
Glancing back, I realized the gators had picked up speed – and I was definitely their primary target. Of course, my rapid movement had also animated the damn zombies, so they, too, had quickened their pace.
Two of the gators outran the others. I could hear them snapping at my heels. Meanwhile, the zombified plant workers closed in from the edges, and Sadie stood directly in the door opening, wearing a shell-shocked expression.
“Outta the way!” I hollered.
Both gators converged just as several moaning zombies stumbled onto the path behind me. But I didn’t take the time to look back. I just leapt up the steps and bolted through the doorway, tripping over my own feet and landing hard on the wooden floor.
A few seconds later, Sadie had closed and locked the glass door.
“You OK, boy?”
I exhaled and staggered to my feet. “I’m good. Just wish I’d realized the supper bell wasn’t only intended for humans.”
She grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Didn’ t’ink so many would come.”
Beyond the glass, it looked as though the gators had turned on the zombies – and foolishly, the zombies were trying to bite the gators. My money was on the
reptiles.
With no time to waste, I grabbed my gun and headed for the front door. Stepping onto the porch, I spotted several zombies in the front yard, but not as many as before – and only a few near the van, ogling Azazel.
I turned to Sadie, who’d followed me to the door. “Maybe you should come with me.”
“Nah, dis my home.”
“That’s exactly what your sister said.”
She smiled. “We alike in a lotta ways.”
“True dat.”
“Be careful out dere on da road.”
“I’ll try,” I replied. “You take care, too.”
“Oh, don’t worry ’bout me,” she said, sounding as stubborn as her sister. “I’ll be jus’ fine.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Then, with a chuckle, I stepped off the porch and darted toward the van. About halfway there, I suddenly remembered Sugar. Though the zombies had dispersed, I didn’t see her anywhere.
Jesus, did they eat her?
Of course, I should’ve known better. Turning back, I noticed her lying on Sadie’s porch. Her tail hung down the steps, as if she’d just sauntered up there. The old woman knelt beside her, patting her head and handing her a chunk of fresh meat.
I shook my head and edged toward the van. Four zombies stood around the front, grabbing at the barred windows and fixated on Azazel. Although she’d locked eyes with mine, the walking corpses had yet to notice me. So, I lifted my gun and shot all four of them. Oddly enough, they were much easier to kill when I was standing in one place, being ignored.
Quickly, I unlocked the driver’s-side door and slipped inside the van. Gazing back at the house, I noticed Sadie standing in her front entrance. She waved once and then shut the door, leaving the giant alligator guarding her porch. No wonder she’d be just fine.
What a strange fucking world it’s become.
I stowed the AR-15, checked all the doors, and again secured the cat carrier on the front passenger seat, if only to make it easier for me to coax Azazel back inside somewhere down the road. Depending on what was happening at my mother-in-law’s house, I might not have a chance to wrangle her then. After reclaiming my own seat, I reversed down the driveway, turned my van around, and retraced the route back to a road I recognized.
Leaning over to rub Azazel’s chin, I whispered, “Next stop: Grandma’s house. This time, I swear it.”
Fifteen minutes after leaving Sadie’s little cabin in the woods, I’d found my way back to Airline Highway. I couldn’t believe it had taken me all goddamn day to go such a short distance. Obviously, I was way behind in my trek to reach Clare, and I was fucking determined not to get sidetracked again.
Sidetrack. That’s Clare’s nickname. Not mine, dammit.
I sighed. The longer we stayed apart, the more likely we’d never be together again. And there was no fucking way I’d let that happen.
Glancing at the dashboard, I noticed Azazel had fallen asleep again. Normally, I wouldn’t have wanted her to be curled up on the dash while in transit, but thanks to the stalled vehicles, occasional traffic, and meandering zombies everywhere, I was driving slowly enough to avoid the possibility of her smacking her head on the glass or rolling onto the floor.
Heading north on U.S. 61 and doing my best to stay alert and avoid any life-threatening obstacles, I found my thoughts wandering back to Sadie and wondering if, like her sister, she was also a voodoo priestess. As focused as I was on reaching Clare as soon as possible, a part of me wished I’d taken the time to ask Sadie some more questions about what had happened to cause the global nightmare. Even after our brief conversation, I was no closer to understanding what had created the fucktard situation in the first place.
When Clare and I had listened to Samir’s bizarre warning and discussed its unbelievable ramifications, we’d understood that the trouble all began with an intercepted signal of some kind. Perhaps a message from a foreign power that inexplicably wanted to end the world or maybe some kind of bullshit alien conspiracy.
Sadie, on the other hand, believed the creatures had come from some alternate dimension. Actually, she and her sister had called it the Infernal, whatever that was, and implied that a breach between dimensions had opened up, releasing these fucked-up things into our world.
Even given my lifelong love of horror and sci-fi and weirdness in general, the whole situation still seemed crazy, unlikely, and frankly impossible. But holy shit, it was really happening, wasn’t it? I might’ve smacked my head a couple times that morning, but I hadn’t dreamed the entire day. Or had I?
No. This all feels and smells too fucking real to be merely a concussion-fueled nightmare.
The sad truth was that I wouldn’t get any answers – not anytime soon. For the moment, all that mattered, all that made sense, was to continue down the highway, keeping my windshield pointed toward the state capital, aiming for Clare, and hoping for safety. And maybe, down the road, even a bit of serenity.
It felt like Azazel and I had a long fucking way to go before we could collect her mama and make it up to northern Michigan, but goddammit, we were gonna get there.
Chapter
21
“Ninety-seven percent of nationwide coverage, and we get stuck in the three percent.” – Doug Bukowski, The Hills Have Eyes (2006)
Ten minutes passed, and we’d traveled farther than we had in the first hour of our never-ending journey from New Orleans to Baton Rouge. The highway to hell had gone rural, and the auto traffic and ambling zombies had cleared out quite a bit.
In fact, without my constant need to alternate between the brakes and the gas, the ride had smoothed out considerably. So much so that Azazel felt comfortable enough to stretch her legs and jump down from the dash.
That was when everything changed. Again.
As Azazel leapt downward, her tail caught my cellphone, knocking it onto the floor. Naturally, the resulting thunk freaked her out, and she darted toward the back of the van – surely to find a safe hiding place from the startling sound she herself had just created.
Shaking my head in amusement, I leaned down and picked up the phone to reconnect it to the charger. Suddenly, I noticed the light blinking above my screen. With my eyes on the dimly lit road, I lifted the phone and unlocked the home screen.
I had a text notification. A motherfucking text!
My hands trembled as I brought up the messaging app with one hand and kept the other on the steering wheel.
It was from Clare. She was alive. My baby was fucking alive!
Fuck everyone who doubted it. Including me.
I slowed the van, opened the message, and scanned the text quickly.
Joe, I hope you can read this. I was so happy when I got your text. I thought something terrible had happened. Where are you? Mom and I are in trouble. The house is surrounded. Must be a few hundred out there, if not more. They know we’re in here, and they’re trying to get to us. Not sure how long we can hold out. Please hurry. I love you.
“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!”
It looked as though she’d sent the text about an hour before, but my phone hadn’t received it until that moment.
Goddammit. All my fucking screwing around.
Maybe I’d helped some people in need, but in doing so, I’d left the love of my life vulnerable. She was in trouble – deep shit, no less – and I was still out and about, doing all kinds of stupid crap, everything but making a beeline for her. Clare had always been the most important person in the world to me, and I refused to fucking fail her.
I immediately braked the van and tried dialing her number. But I didn’t even get the bullshit all-circuits-are-busy voice. There was zero signal. Not one damn bar.
Not only had the zombie apocalypse disrupted America’s communications networks, but since I was driving through the middle of bumfuck nowhere, there probably wasn’t even a cell tower anywhere near me.
I heard a meow from behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Azazel slinking towa
rd the front of the van. Her eyes met mine, and she paused below the passenger seat. I must’ve forgotten to latch the gate when securing her carrier, so it had opened during the ride, and as it swung toward me, she reached her paws upward and scrambled inside.
She’d always been a smart cat, and she could usually read my moods well. Anger made her bolt from the room, but fear and sickness often brought her closer.
In the present case, she likely knew that something serious had occurred. She’d heard the panic in my voice, and no matter what I was about to do to get back to her beloved mama, she apparently felt a lot more at ease inside her carrier. Grinning, I leaned over and secured the gate.
Knowing Azazel was relatively safe, I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal, and the van careened down the highway. The next several minutes passed in a veritable blur as I bulldozed my way toward Baton Rouge. I didn’t recall much of what occurred. Whenever a stalled vehicle or stumbling zombie appeared in my path, I didn’t even swerve my van. Just rammed into it and not-so-politely shoved it aside with the welded steel bars above my front bumper.
Cuz fuck them.
Azazel let out a tiny don’t-let-any-fuckers-stop-us meow.
If anything or anyone got in my way, he, she, or it would soon be out of my way. Clare was counting on me – and, for that matter, so was my cat.
Survive the Zombie Chaos
CONTINUE THE CHAOS
Terror on the Bayou: Zombie Chaos Book 3
Many things can kill you on the bayou… gators, snakes, crazy Cajuns, and now zombies.
I’m another step closer to reaching my wife, Clare. But you know the old saying… one step forward, two steps back. The problem is time… as in, it’s running out. For her. And for us.
Zombie Chaos (Book 2): Highway to Hell Page 14