DEAD (Book 12): End (10 page)

After eating enough to take the edge off my hunger, I doused my fire, scattered the remnants, and resumed my journey. The rest of the day passed uneventfully until late in the afternoon when I heard the first rumbles of thunder. I was in a bit of a cut between two sheer cliffs and had to walk a ways until I reached a spot that allowed me to look back in the direction I’d come. Sure enough, the clouds had grown taller, thicker, and darker. The occasional flash of lightning lit up the horizon, and I could see a gray haze descending from the clouds that indicated rain.

I would want to get out of the storm and that meant heading for one of the old fire watch towers. I hated those things for some reason. They always gave me the creeps, but they were also the best place to ride out storms or hide from large mobs of the undead.

I started up a trail that I knew would take me to the closest tower. As I walked, I wondered if things would ever be normal or peaceful. For some reason, my mind drifted to memories of when I was younger. I could not really remember a lot of those early days, but I still got flashes every once in a while of something that would come at me with such vivid clarity that it often stuck with me for a few days. I reached the base of the fire tower and was climbing up to the stairs when one such memory hit me with enough mental force to almost cause me to lose my grip on the crossbeam I was currently holding on to and fall the twenty or so feet to the ground below.

A woman that I am sure had to have been my mother was kneeling in front of me, slipping my feet into a pair of blue tennis shoes. I could hear something pounding on a door or a wall nearby.

“Ándale, Thalia!” the woman hissed.

I looked into her eyes and saw terror. I also saw pain. My eyes drifted to her arm and I could see blood seeping from where she had wrapped a towel around her left wrist. She put a very gentle hand under my chin and guided my head up until my eyes were forced to tear away from what I was seeing.

She stood up and took me by the hand. We hurried to the front door and stepped out into the cool night air. There was a big bush with pretty pink flowers on it that was right outside the door. (I remember being very sad that the flowers did not seem to have any sort of smell to them.) We hurried around a corner to a big opening that led to the parking lot. All of a sudden, my mama tumbled backwards. She slammed into me and sent me skidding across the concrete on my butt.

Three figures seemed to suddenly appear from the darkness and pounce on my mama. She kicked and fought and screamed, but they had her. I remember her head turning to me, her eyes wide with pain and fear, but still she had the presence of mind to lock eyes with me and yell, “Corra! Run!”

I wanted to, but my feet refused to move. A jet of something warm and sticky sprayed me. I continued to watch until my mind finally reached its limit. I remember screaming so loud and so hard that it hurt my throat. I screamed again and the three figures on my mama turned their heads towards me. At that same moment, the world erupted in light.

“Thalia!”

I blinked my eyes and shook my head to clear it; then I grabbed the bottom step so that I could pull myself up when I heard it again. Only, this time, it wasn’t part of my memory. It was a real voice.

“Thalia!”

4

Vignettes LXVIII

“Where is the cabin?” Denita whispered.

Juan pulled himself up and over a pile of logs and filth. The stench was almost enough to make him sick. There were bits and pieces of deader everywhere. Hundreds of them had been crushed and trampled into a mush that coated the ground with vile darkness.

“It’s gone,
hija
,” Juan answered. “And no more talking for a few minutes. We need to make sure the area is clear.”

The girls had grown up in the age of the undead. To them, an instruction such as that was the modern equivalent to his being told to look both ways before crossing the street back when he was just a little boy.

Juan listened. He could not even hear birds or any sort of wildlife in the area. What he did hear was the steady and irritating buzz of the thousands of flying insects that had come to the feast.

Twice he had to kick away a head that had managed to survive the sloth-like stampede that had come through and leveled everything in its path. He could actually see the direction that they had come from as well as where they had headed.

South.

That was actually a good thing. With the zombies moving south and his target destination to the west, he had at least the slightest reason to be thankful.

Juan stopped cold. His mind turned inward and he scolded himself for that last thought. He looked down at his daughters who had both come to an abrupt halt in response to his own actions.
No
, he corrected himself,
I have two very big reasons to be thankful
. It was time he started remembering that little fact.

“Okay, girls,” Juan whispered, “be careful as you walk through this. The heads can still bite you.”

“We know, Papi,” both girls whispered in response.

“Yes, I guess that you do.”

The trio made their way out of the disaster area that had once been Gerald’s cabin. Once they reached more stable ground, Juan let out his breath in a ragged sigh. He turned back and gave the wreckage one more look.

“Papi?” Della tugged on Juan’s sleeve. “Can we say a prayer for the Grizzly Man before we go?”

“Sure.” The word was barely out of Juan’s mouth when both girls crossed themselves and knelt on the ground.

Together, the pair traded off speaking aloud her prayer. They both asked God to let Grizzly Man into Heaven, and then began to list all the things that they hoped he would tell their mother. Juan could not help but smile as Denita said, “But, Jesus, make sure that Mama waits for Papi. The Grizzly Man will have to find his own wife from all the angels.”

Once the prayer and heavenly laundry list was finished, Juan took the girls’ hands and brought them over to a large rock. “Okay, I want and need you both to do exactly as I say.” He received nods from the girls. “We are going to find anything useful that we can, and then we have to go.”

“Do you think the Grizzly Man is a deader or did he maybe just die?” Della asked, a tear brimming at the corner of her left eye.

Juan pressed his lips together tightly. He had never made it a habit of sugar-coating things for his girls. He had not believed that such things would be to their benefit in this harsh new world that they would grow up in.

“I think that maybe there might have been too many deaders. He can’t come back if there is nothing left.” Honestly, despite how horrible it would be, Juan hoped to God that there had not been enough left of Gerald for the man to come back and walk among the undead.

Both girls nodded.

That seemed to satisfy each of them in some way and they quickly set to work. The first thing they did was find sticks to poke around with in all the mess. The girls both had gloves from when they had ventured out to hunt rabbit, unfortunately, Juan did not have a set and could not do more than poke and have one of the girls come if he found something useful.

Once they had managed to scrounge up anything that he deemed useful (which was sadly very little), they went to the nearby stream and cleaned everything up. After a quick inventory, they had one leather pouch with a shoulder strap, four long knives, and one very big machete in addition to the smaller field machetes that his daughters had on their hips.

They were just about ready to go when a low moan came from the nearby tall grass. Juan instinctively moved the girls behind him, but they just as quickly edged right back up to his side. Juan cocked his head and listened closely. He knew very well what the sounds of the undead were like; this was not a deader.

“Stay put!” he hissed, and then Juan crept closer to where the sound could be heard.

Another moan came as Juan reached the reeds. Using his machete, he parted the curtain of stalks and actually felt his face contort at what he saw. Lying in the muck and water was Gerald. Or, at least what was left of him.

If the bear had done some damage, that was a scratch compared to what the zombies had done. In fact, he truly did not know how the man was still alive. And he was alive.

The one eye that fixed on him through the thick mud and swelling of a face that had been bitten in no less than three spots was not the filmed over gaze of a zombie. Even more impressive, there was no sign of the tracers.

Gerald was alive—barely.

“Jesus, man,” Juan gasped as he limped forward and knelt at Gerald’s side.

The only response was a moan that ended in a wet gurgle. The big man coughed, causing blood to trickle from his lips. Although, admittedly, it was difficult to really see through the matted, mud-drenched beard.

Looking the man up and down, Juan cataloged the injuries. The worst was the three missing fingers on the right hand and the bites to the face. It looked like the lower lip was barely attached and the hideous flap of flesh hung down, resting on the beard. Most of the man’s upper body was bare, the shirt and protective jerkin having been ripped away.

A gasp at his right shoulder made Juan turn suddenly. The girls had come up while he was intent on examining Gerald and now they were staring in open-mouthed horror at the damage.

“Get back…NOW!” he added when they seemed to hesitate.

Juan knew that they had seen things that the average seven-year-old of his or her time had not; still, that did not mean they needed to see Gerald like this. Plus—Juan turned back and looked at the man’s chest for any indication as to his breathing patterns—it would do them no good to see the man actually die.

“K-k-kill me,” Gerald managed, although it was barely decipherable with his ruined mouth.

“I will,” Juan promised.

There was a pause and then the man shook his head. He motioned Juan to lean in closer. He took one more look to confirm that the man’s eye had not clouded over and filled with black tracers and then Juan leaned in to listen.

“N-n-no, you idiot. I was saying
don’t
kill me.” He had to swallow to clear his mouth of blood and then Gerald continued. “Unless I die and turn.”

Juan sat back up and examined Gerald. Obviously the man had no idea as to the extent of his injuries. Then he looked around at the ruins of the old cabin. It was not like he would be able to bring the man to his bed and nurse him back to health.

Juan stood and planted his hands on his hips as he looked around. Between his lame leg, Gerald being torn apart like a cheap chew toy, and his only help in the form of a pair of seven-year-old girls, Juan had never before been in a situation that felt so helpless. He had no tools, and it was unlikely that any remained. He’d even noticed the big maul where Gerald split wood had been snapped like so much kindling and rendered useless. It was likely that the other tools had probably met the same fate.

That thought made Juan laugh sardonically. It was bad enough that they had ripped apart Gerald, and it was bad enough that they had basically demolished the cabin just by their sheer numbers. Toss in that this ground would probably be rotten from the slurry of bodies that had been crushed and trampled in the event. But without even meaning to, they had also completely destroyed anything that he might be able to use to help rebuild. Not that he could do that much in his condition.

As he stood there, he noticed a wisp of smoke coming from the north and east of his location. There were other lone settlers in these parts. Juan knew that, and so the wisp of smoke was not much of a surprise. In fact, at the moment, it symbolized hope.

“Girls,” Juan called Della and Denita over. “See that smoke over there?” They both looked and then nodded. “I am going to need you to help me, and this will be very important.”

Juan struggled with what he was about to do. However, there was not really any other viable option. Sending the girls was the best chance he had at this exact moment. If he went and Gerald turned, he could not feel a hundred percent certain that they would take the big man down. Also, he needed to try and get the man cleaned up somewhat. He could not leave him to just lie in the mud and reeds on the banks of the stream. He had enough skill at basic first aid that he would be able to at least do something.

You could always leave
, a voice piped up from somewhere in the darkest part of his mind.
This ain’t the old world. You don’t owe nobody nothin’.

But that was just it. He did owe this guy. Not only had he nursed Juan back to health after the incident with the horse, but he also had taken it upon himself to help teach his daughters about survival. And then there was the bear.

“Girls, I want you to stick together, no matter what. You understand?” Their heads bobbed in acknowledgement. “Now, I want you to go towards that smoke. That has to be another settler. Tell them that we have a man who is hurt. Tell them that the zombie herd that passed through destroyed the cabin. Ask if they can help.”

“Okay, Papi,” the girls said in unison.

“And you don’t have time to waste. No zombie practice, no hunting. You hurry straight there. And if they won’t help. Or if you get there and it does not feel right…you run back here right away. Remember what I told you about trusting that funny feeling in your tummy?”

“Trust the gut and move your butt,” Denita giggled.

“Exactly.” Juan pulled the girls to his chest in a tight embrace. “Now hurry!”

He watched them turn and dash off into the woods. For the hundredth time, he reminded himself that it was not the Old World where no parent would even consider sending their children into the woods which were dangerous enough by themselves before zombies; but also to send them to a stranger’s house?

Returning his attention to Gerald, Juan peeled off his jacket and set it aside. “This is probably going to hurt,” he whispered, and then reached under Gerald’s armpits and shut off his own pain as he pulled the man up to a grassy patch unfouled by the legions of undead that had paved a hellish trail that, if seen from above, visibly bulged slightly as it washed over this particular spot where a cabin once sat.

***

By the time the group arrived at the gates, a contingent was waiting for them. They numbered nine men and three women and were dressed like they had just come off the farm. They wore very little in the way of protective clothing which implied they saw little in the way of zombies or human raiders. Well, much to their chagrin, that was about to change.

It had already been decided that Vix would do the talking. She knew what to say, and nobody doubted her ability to come across as confident. Gable would act as the muscle, and Randi would provide what Paddy had called the “Holy Crap” factor. She would simply scowl and let her scars act as a sort of intimidation tactic of the psychological nature. Vix had to admit, until she’d gotten more familiar with the woman, Randi had scared the bejeezus out of her.

“What news?” a man called, stepping just ahead of his companions.

Vix wasted no time. She went into her spiel about Dolph and his followers. She noticed heads nodding when she explained about the zombies being used as lures to bring a herd down on a settlement. Also, it was assumed that he used this tactic twofold; one use was simply as a scare tactic, the second was in cases like New England where his army would likely fail at an attempt to attack and conscript the residents.

That theory had come up around the campfire as they trekked towards London. Known instances where the zombies had actually been directed at a town were few. Those cases were always the larger and better fortified settlements. Over the years, methods had been adopted to protect against large herds. Of course, nothing like the sea of undead now being utilized as a weapon had ever been encountered. It was just not thinkable for so many zombies to gather in one mob.

In an age where a few hundred people were considered the new era equivalent to a megalopolis, zombies gathered in the millions was unfathomable—until now, that is. Pure and simple, no set of trenches and wooden walls would keep this herd at bay. The fall of New England had proven that as fact.

“Seems the bloody Nazis finally got the perfect, mindless soldier to do their bidding,” one man quipped.

“Aye,” another agreed. “So what is your plan? It seems to me you are telling us that the situation is hopeless.”