After Life (34 page)

Chapter 8: Smart Decision

In a normal world, a sane world, Andy would have given Michelle all the time she needed to mourn Donnie’s death. Then again, in a normal world, Donnie wouldn’t have died.

As it was, Andy knew they had only seconds to get moving. The people further inside the building had to have heard the gunshots, and the zombies outside were certain to be heading in their direction, too, so Andy had to get Michelle going quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, laying his hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “He was a good man. But if we don’t move now, he’ll be a wrong man — your time
will
be now.”

Michelle nodded, lifting her head and wiping her eyes. “Okay,” she said between sniffs. She stood up from Donnie’s body without looking at it again. Some of Donnie’s blood had spilled onto Michelle’s leg, but she didn’t pay it any heed.

“Is everyone inside?” Andy asked the group at large. After a quick body count confirmed that they were, he continued to Lowensen. “Shut the door.”

He turned behind him and pulled the door to. When he let go, Andy noticed that it swung back open an inch or so. “All the way closed, Lowensen,” he said.

The teacher pulled the door again, and again it swung open slightly. He scrunched his face at the door and tried again, with the same result. “It won’t close,” he said, annoyed and confused.

“What the hell do you mean?” Andy asked, moving to the door to see why the teacher had failed this time. He pulled the door closed himself, but again it didn’t latch.

Andy inspected the latch and swore again. Thanks to fate, the woman’s other bullet — the one that hadn’t killed Donnie — had managed to pierce the door catch and rip a hole through the exact spot where it should be, rendering the door impossible to close.

“God
damn
it!” Andy said. He pushed the door and saw the two injured zombies wobbling their way toward the Wal-Mart, now within twenty-five yards or so of the doorway. Further away, at the edge of the grounds, several other zombies were coming into view, and most of them seemed far more ambulatory than the two close ones. It was a small total — maybe 15 in total, maybe less — but disheartening to see.

“Shit,” Andy said again. He addressed his small crew. “They’ll be inside soon. We can’t close the door, and we don’t have time to hang out here.”

“How many are there?” Celia asked, her voice breathless.

Andy looked to his daughter, sad that he was about to lie to her and put her through more turmoil than she needed. “A lot, sweetheart,” he said, trying to make his voice sound grim. “I saw at least forty, fifty out there.”

“Let me,” Vince said, stepping forward, offering the response Andy had been hoping for with his lie. “If this place ain’t secure, my people ain’t gonna try too damn hard to protect it. They’ll help you folks kill them. Might not be keen on letting you come with us when we leave, but ain’t no sense in killing the livin’ when the dead’s about.”

“What are you proposing?” Andy asked.

“Follow me,” Vince said. He turned toward the spot where the woman had died and marched to that corner. “The interior doesn’t have doors, just openin’s, but it’s a tight hallway ya gotta pass through. Dollars to doughnuts, my people are just sittin’ by each opening, waiting to pick off you folks as you try to enter. I’ll tell ‘em what’s happened, an’ we’ll fight the Z’s together.”

Andy nodded. It made sense, explaining why they hadn’t had company yet from the inside group, and Vince’s idea was what Andy was angling for with his lie about the number of zombies outside. If there were only a handful, the people inside might be content to sit back and let Andy and the group battle the zombies, then pick the survivors off at will. If they thought the zombies would win any battle, Andy thought, they would likely be more inclined to join the fight.

“Okay,” he said, his voice still stern to Vince. “You will stand near the entrance, out of sight of your people, and you will call in to them. I will stand a few feet away, and my weapon will be pointed at your head. That means that the first thing you say that I don’t like will be the last thing you say. Just so you know the situation.”

Vince swallowed deeply and nodded. Andy wasn’t comfortable making his threats, and hadn’t been comfortable killing either Murph or the woman in the hallway. Amanda’s face had flashed across his mind both times. But necessity had called for Andy to be more cold-blooded. He didn’t like that he had that switch to flip, but there it was. He wondered if he could ever flip it back.

He cut the rope binding Vince’s arms, and the soldier continued around the corner, with Andy only steps behind him and the rest of the group following as quickly as they could.

Around the corner, the hallway looked almost identical to the one they were turning from, except that it had no outside door, and only a hole pointing to the inside where a door would be. Vince moved right to the edge of the opening and stood with his back to the wall, following Andy’s instructions exactly. Andy followed his own rules, raising his gun to Vince’s head.

At a nod from Andy, Vince spoke.

“Can y’all hear me?” he called in.

There was mostly silence for a moment, though Andy thought he could hear a slight murmuring from inside. Finally, a deep, vaguely Hispanic voice called back. “Vince? That you?”

“Menendez?” Vince called back. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Y’all remember them cars we passed on the way here? Shot up that car? Survivors showed up. Killed Murph, grabbed me. Now we’re all here.”

“What were the shots we heard?” Menendez asked. “Where’s Pastis?”

“Dead,” Vince replied. “Killed one of theirs, they killed her.”

“Son of a bitch!” Menendez said. “I assume you people can hear me! Know that this isn’t a winning game you’re playing. We’ll kill the lot of you. Don’t want Vince to die in the process, but you are not getting in here! This is our space!”

“No, it ain’t, Menendez!” Vince said. “This ain’t no one’s space!”

“The hell does that mean?”

“Means Pastis did more’n kill one of their people. Means Pastis managed to shoot the goddamn latch off the goddamn door. Means this place ain’t no safer’n anywhere else we been, an’ them damn Z’s are gonna be here to visit us any second now. There’s nigh on fifty out there already.”

“Son of a bitch!” Menendez said again.

“Now, listen!” Andy called in. “Menendez, is it? I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. For now. We don’t need to be killing one another when there’s a bigger threat to deal with just outside the door. I believe we’ve proven we can handle ourselves in this world, living this long, besting your people. And there’s only seven of us, now. We won’t exactly be eating you out of house and home. Let us join you in there and we can fight the Z’s together, and find a final destination together. I don’t believe I’m asking much here, especially not when your friend Vincent’s life hangs in the balance of your answer.”

When no answer came for a moment, Vince spoke again. “Menendez, damnit, there ain’t many of ‘em, an’ they’re gon’ kill me. Just agree to the goddamn deal!”

“Fine!” Menendez said at last. “I can’t promise we’ll take you with us when it’s time to leave, but we won’t kill you, so long as there’s Z’s out there to worry about that can get in here.”

Andy froze. He wanted to believe Menendez, but didn’t feel at all comfortable simply walking in view of his men and their guns. For a moment, no one in the exterior corridor moved, the group waiting to see what Andy would do, and Andy waiting to see if some idea came to him.

Ultimately, though, Andy didn’t have to decide, as a pair of hands stuck out from the hole in the wall, followed shortly afterward by a man, walking forward submissively. He was in his early fifties, with jet-black hair that spread just long enough to pass over his ears. There were a few crow’s feet stretching from his eyes, but other than that, the man showed few signs of aging. He was well-built, thin without looking sickly, and the muscles in his arms stretched the fabric of his shirt as he held them aloft and walked toward the group.

Andy had his gun raised toward the man, still not positive he could be trusted, before he spoke. “My name,” he said, “is Carlos Menendez. Staff Sergeant Carlos Menendez. I am the commanding officer here, and I am prepared to lay down arms. Against you folks. For now.” His hands still raised, Menendez stepped toward Andy, looking to reach an agreement on his almost-truce.

Andy lowered his gun slightly. “And what happens when you’ve decided the Z’s are no longer an immediate threat?”

Menendez shook his head. “If we can’t stay here, we can’t stay here,” he said, then narrowed his eyes, causing his wrinkles to stretch further across his temples. “I don’t expect that we’ll be taking you with us wherever we go. I can promise you that I will not personally shoot you or your people. And I will instruct my men of the same. I cannot promise that Murphy’s wife, Pastis’ husband, or any of the others who feel you have wronged them, will not act of their own accord, but then again I suppose no one can ever make that promise.”

“Your people,” Andy said, “killed mine as well. On the road, you shot three of my group. Two of them died right away. The other was injured, both physically and mentally, and she died within hours. So, while I sympathize with those who have lost people, know that I have lost people as well, and I am willing, for the time being, to consider us even in the grand book of deposits and withdrawals. Our balance is zero as of this moment. Tell them that for me, will you?”

Menendez nodded. “Very well,” he said. “I will pass your message along. And as I said, I will tell everyone to treat you peacefully. But I can make no promises. In this world, with these mindsets, emotions run high. But I assure you, I will do whatever I can to make sure they shoot the dead, and the dead only.”

Andy considered the deal. It was the best he could hope for, he guessed. And, though he would never fully trust Menendez after Vince’s tale of the highway incident, it seemed the man was telling the truth in this moment.

He returned Menendez’s nod, and the man lowered his arms at last and returned to his people. Vince started to follow, but a warning look from Andy held him there, and the man bowed his head and leaned back against the wall.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Andy couldn’t make out the words of Menendez addressing his people inside the compound. Then, a noise came. But the noise wasn’t from the bowels of the building, wasn’t the return of Menendez to tell them that they could come in or that they were banished.

The noise was the unmistakable sound of slowly shuffling footsteps, coming from somewhere in the hallway behind their group. That sound, Andy knew, meant that the first zombies had made it inside. Based on the fact that the steps were slow, barely moving, Andy figured they had to belong to one or both of the injured zombies, but he didn’t like the arrival regardless.

He glanced behind him. His crew was growing ever more unreliable, as Simon was busy supporting Brandon’s weight, Michelle was despondent, and he wouldn’t entertain the idea of sending Stacy or — especially — Celia back to face the zombies. That left only Lowensen, who was already stationed at the rear. His eyes met Andy’s and, after a nod, he slumped his shoulders and turned to investigate their new company.

“Menendez!” Andy called. “They are here. They’ve reached the inside. We’re coming in. Now!”

It was a gamble, Andy knew, entering before being given the okay, but he didn’t want to engage in a firefight. Not yet, at least. So he motioned for Vince to head into the interior of the building.

Vince, still looking scared, nodded and turned to make his way inside. For a second, nothing happened as Vince moved forward, and Andy started to follow him. Suddenly, though, he saw Vince’s shoulders go rigid from behind, then saw the man dive to his left as a gunshot rang out from the building interior.

Vince cried out as he hit the ground, his right shoulder now bleeding from a grazing bullet wound.

Andy froze. Once again, he didn’t know what to do next. And he knew he had only seconds to figure it out.

Then the decision was made for him. Three men and a woman walked out from the small hallway, each with their weapons raised toward Andy. Immediately, Simon, Stacy and Michelle raised their guns back. With Lowensen still watching their rear, and Celia and Brandon keeping theirs lowered, the numbers were even for the moment.

“What the hell is going on?” Andy said, trying to sound intimidating.

“We discussed your deal,” the leading man said, and Andy suddenly recognized him as O’Reilly from the highway assault. The scar on the man’s cheek seemed, if anything, to have grown, and he spit the word “deal” as though he considered it an insult even to have to negotiate with Andy and his group. “And this is our response.” From behind O’Reilly, two others from the back walked up, dragging something with them. O’Reilly and his cronies separated, and the trailers flung forward their baggage — Menendez’s body, rendered lifeless by what looked by a knife across the neck.

“We don’t take on any dead weight,” O’Reilly spat. “We watch out for our own. And you aren’t that.”

“You’re the Army!” Stacy cried out. “Your
job
is to protect the people!”

O’Reilly sneered at her. “Sweetheart,” he said, and Andy wanted to punch him all the more for the tone in his voice, “that stopped being our job sometime back in 2010. Might have rebounded a bit in the years since, but today, in a Z world? Our job is to survive. To protect
our own
. And fuck anyone who gets in the way.”