Beyond the Barriers (35 page)

It was red hot—a seething mass of energy that lurked beneath my skin, aching to get out. I tried to sleep, to ignore the sounds of the world around me, the smell of death and rot that permeated the air. It was hard, hard to ignore everything that had happened over the last few days and months. The cabin, Katherine—oh my God, Katherine. I wanted to get back to her more than anything, wanted to protect her, to love her. She was scarred, and so was I, but together we could forge a future. I was sure of it.

First, I had to take care of something. I was tired of being on the run, fighting for my life. I was going to bring to the dead what they had brought to so many of us. I was going to put an end to every one I could find, and then I was going to burn them from the face of the earth, if it was the last thing I did.

I rose, my legs popping as I groaned. Lack of potassium was making me weak; my body was trying to keep up with the torture, but it was hard pressed. There were more protein bars, and it would have to do. At least they would fill the void in my gut.

How many boxes of Cliff bars were left in the entire world? With the U.S. overrun by the dead, how long did it take for the factories to shut down, for the grain and supplies to stop flowing? How many cargo ships sat off the coast and waited for something to change?

I wished I had a cup of coffee—a big twenty-ouncer that I could nurse until it was the perfect temperature then guzzle for the caffeine hit. I found the next best thing in some energy drinks that were stashed with the rest of the supplies.

I ate a dried-out protein bar and washed it back with a pair of Red Bulls. They were the sugar-free kind that left a weird aftertaste in my mouth, but the chemicals, herbs, and heavy caffeine hit me like a brick, leaving me buzzed before the first one was gone. The second one was just gravy.

After pulling stuff out of boxes, I sorted and categorized. There was an arsenal here, and I planned to use it all. Guns, bullets, grenades, even some empty glass bottles that would make great Molotovs. Fill a bottle with fuel, stick a piece of cloth in, light it, and watch the Z’s crackle, pop and burn. Bye bye, bastards.

“Why do you have to start that shit so early?” Scott mumbled. He slid beside me and took in the food and drink. I could tell he was in just as much pain as I was.

“‘Bout time you got up, princess. I was about to send a toad to wake your ass up.”

“Am I the toad?” Jack sat up in the back of the truck and rubbed his eyes.

I looked between the two, looked closely at their eyes, and felt sorry for doing it. They weren’t changing into ghouls. These were my friends, and I would protect them from any harm. They would never eat of the dead, nor would I. I would die of starvation first.

“You’re something, but I don’t know if I would go with toad,” Scott said.

“Good to know I’m loved.”

“Yeah, those things out there would love to munch on you.” Scott chuckled.

We ate a few more protein bars and compared the taste and texture to sawdust, then discussed the merits of a few beers with breakfast while we sorted the gear.

I found a jacket in one bin that was a little worn and a bit tight over my frame, but I was able to slip into it. The thing had an impressive number of hooks and pockets; I would be able to hang all manner of gear on it.

Scott dug around in the glove box and came out with an old manual for the machine gun mounted on top of the beat-up Hummer. He started going over the device, and even fed some bullets into it from a large ammo box.

“Want me to shoot?” I asked?

He smirked at me and shook his head. “No fucking way, partner. I’m going to be all over this thing when we bring it.”

When
we
bring it, eh? I was planning to ask them to stay here while I went, but from their faces, I could tell that was a mistake. There was no way they would wait here while I waltzed off with our only transport and a will to die for my new cause.

I checked the perimeter next, something I should have done to begin with but didn’t have the energy for. It would probably serve us right if we were ambushed.

The farm was a few hundred feet off the main drag, so I doubted we would be disturbed. I checked as much of the place as I could, and even went to the wide-open front gate to check for footprints, but the only fresh signs I saw were the marks from the truck.

A dog barked somewhere in the distance. It sounded big, like a lab or German Shepherd. Birds were making a cacophony in the woods. With so many humans gone, it was no wonder they were returning and probably multiplying like flies.

I walked back to the slaughterhouse and noticed an old well to the side. It was partially covered with a fallen tree about sixteen feet tall. Looked like a small maple to me, but the leaves were all dried and blown away. Pushing the husk aside, I checked the pump. It was old, and there was a block on it—a piece of metal that slid into a latch. With a screech I pulled it out, and the handle moved. There was a tap that was covered, but I couldn’t move it. I went and found a rock and hammered it a few times until it came loose. Take that, primate ancestors.

I worked the pump for a minute before yellowish water came out. The wind was picking up and blew some of it on me. I backed up, but there was no smell of rot, just rust. I went to the other side and pumped until the water ran clear, then I did my best to rinse my hands clean.

On the tip of my tongue, I tasted a bit, and it was as sweet as honeydew. Scott stared at me from inside the slaughterhouse, and I gestured for him to come over. He tasted it, whooped, and then drank some. We took turns sipping the water until Jack came out.

“Well you are just full of surprises, Erik.” He grinned at me.

“I just fired it up. I didn’t dig the thing.”

“You’re still my hero.”

Jack didn’t stand on ceremony. He walked around until he found a bucket and dumped out whatever the hell was in it before. After he rinsed it out a few times, he stripped out of his clothes. Scott and I looked at each other, and his eyebrow quirked up at the corner as the larger man dropped his drawers.

In the chilly morning air, he filled the bucket with water then dumped it over his head, while we pretended to look at everything but his unabashed nakedness. Not that I had a problem with the human form; it was just weird. He shivered, howled at the cold, and did it again.

“God damn, I’m alive.”

After he went back inside to get dressed, I shrugged at Scott and did the same thing. The water stung like an electric shock, but I felt almost reborn after the icy cold washed away my fear of the day to come.

* * *

We left an hour later, somewhat clean and more or less refreshed. I had a full stomach, and the energy drinks were doing their best to eat away the lining of my stomach, but I was more buzzed on caffeine than I had been since the cabin. The morning air had burned off to reveal a warm Oregon day. Clouds pulled back, and the sun roared down like an angry god.

“Any idea how to get there?” Scott asked from behind the wheel. He’d driven yesterday, and when we got in the vehicle, he jumped in the driver’s seat like he was made for it.

“We head back the way we came. The turnoff was about three miles down the road. I remember a big burned-up husk of a crew cab on the side of the street. Then we visit Haley and find our way to the camp.”

Scott was silent when I mentioned her name. Had he become as close to her in the cage as I had? I felt an odd sense of loyalty to her memory, even though I had only known her for a day or two. I had thought of her as a kid sister. Someone I would have been happy to listen to when she was troubled at school, but she was gone.

“Do you think he was right?” Scott asked.

“Doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t have done it. Asshole.” Jack leaned forward.

“I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

“Maybe, but he is one of us. Good or bad, he’s still human,” Jack said.

“Bad, man. That was the same guy that dragged a family out of their home because they wouldn’t join his cause. We had enough whack-jobs in the day. We shouldn’t let them run around like that.”

“Who are we to judge?” I wondered out loud.

“Fuck that, man. This is a new world. A world that sucks, sure, but it’s ours, and we have to shape it or we are dead. All of us will become creepers like those things. Do you want to wander around like that? I sure don’t. Not me.”

“I don’t think we should have the power to decide who lives and dies.”

“Really, Erik? So then what the hell are we doing now, if we shouldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner?” Scott shot back.

“He’s got you there, boss.” Jack said, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head as he stared at the sky. He hummed a song as we drove on.

Scott did have a good point, but this wasn’t simply about judging. This was about eradicating a cancer from the earth. This was about vengeance. This was about taking out every one of those undead bastards so they never again held people against their will. I would err on the side of humanity when it came down to it.

We took the turnoff and drove past the spot where I’d tossed Lee out on his ass. There was no sign of him. I might have had a change of heart and put him down after all.

It wasn’t much longer before we came across the battle scene. Most of the bodies were gone, but there were spent shells all over the ground.

We sat in the idling car for a moment, staring at the spot. Haley’s body was still lying there, alone, next to a puddle of water that had been my salvation for all of two minutes. I got out without a word and went to her. She looked pathetic with her face to the side, one arm over her head, the other crooked against her body. Her legs were splayed open, so I pushed them together, but resisted the urge to touch her. There was a familiar smell to her—that rotted stench like fish guts left in a bucket. It could have been from the cage; we might have all smelled like it.

I skirted the area with my rifle held low, but nothing moved in the woods, even when I moved into the trees a bit. Scott and Jack dragged branches to Haley and covered her as best they could. We didn’t speak as we got back in the truck and drove off.

* * *

“I think this might cut into the camp. The road hasn’t seen much use, but I have a feeling it is in that direction,” Scott said. He was pointing at the dirt path. There was a mailbox that read ‘Johnson,’ but it was hanging off the post like someone had run into it with a car.

We had been up and down the area, over and around the back streets, and while we had escaped at night, I was reasonably sure that we were in the right location. I jumped out of the truck, puffing up dust with my beat-up boots, then moved to the edge of the woods that rose in a low fence around the pathway.

I would have given just about anything for a suppressor for the gun. It was an older AR-15, much like the gun I used back when we were at the Walmart, but this one had seen a lot of use. Half a dozen magazines weighed me down, and I planned to use as many of them as possible.

“I’ll take a look. Hang back for a second. If you hear gunfire, come in with guns blazing.”

“What if a bunch of boy scouts are camping in there?” Scott grinned.

“Then come in singing Kumbaya, mother fucker.” I faded into the tree line.

The woods weren’t as dense as I remembered, and it would be about my luck to have chosen the wrong location. I crept ahead, feet placed softly, gun raised, as I tried to not step on any branches or into holes. Light streamed in from breaks in the trees, but, for the most part, it was dark and gloomy. It smelled fresh, the wet earth and trees. There was no stench of the dead carried on the wind here.

I did my best to head in a westerly direction. I had affixed a tiny compass I found in the tip of a survival knife to the stock of the gun, and I followed it west. When I came to a fallen tree, I had to lower the gun to slide over it. As I came up from a crouch, I caught movement ahead.

The ground here was covered in pine needles, and each step was a crunch that sounded, to my ears, like I was stepping on bubble wrap. I kept expecting a group of the dead to swarm me as I crept toward them.

It reminded me of the day I came across the zombie in the woods near the cabin. Katherine and I had been together then, and I was fiercely protective of her, even though she would have likely picked up an axe and buried it in the thing’s head as fast as I would have.

The zombie was near the ground, low, and it was grunting. I assumed it was a man from his frame. Big and blocky, but bent over. If he wasn’t a zombie, I hoped it didn’t stand up too fast and end up with a bullet in his head.

With my thumb, I snapped the safety off. The click was so loud, I was sure everyone in a one-mile radius heard it, but the guy kept on doing whatever he was doing.

I drew to within a few feet of the man before he pulled up from the ground long enough for me to get an idea of what I was dealing with. It wasn’t even male. It was a woman with a bloated body, grunting over a prize. Her mouth was covered in blood and viscera; she chewed a mass of congealed matter while blood leaked down her chin and onto the ground. The sound was disturbing, like hearing a bear chew on a hunk of flesh.