Deadlocked 6 (5 page)

"Okay, let me get a weapon."

She walked away from us, toward the overgrown weeds along the gravel road. She searched through the brush until she found a stick, about four feet long, that she smashed against the ground a few times to test. She seemed satisfied with its durability and started to snap off extraneous branches as she walked back to us.

"I can get you a gun," said Hero.

Celeste effortlessly twirled the stick over her arm and around her back. "This'll do."

We went to the back of the truck and listened for sounds coming from inside. The people of Vineyard had kept these trucks, as well as several other vehicles, in good condition and fully fueled in the event of an emergency. While many of the settlements along the Rockies had been successful in rooting themselves, few people forgot the days when the Popper disease ravaged the countryside. Most survivors kept moving, like the High Rollers. It wasn't safe to stay in one spot for too long, and all of the settlements that we helped protect were equipped and ready for speedy evacuations.

This was a refrigerated truck, although the cooling unit had been stripped out of it long ago. The insulated walls prevented us from hearing if anything was moving inside.

Celeste stepped forward in anticipation as Hero prepared to unlatch the door. I put my arm out to stop her, and felt the sludge on her clothes stain me as I pushed her back.

"Careful," I said to her. "Let us handle it."

Hero looked back at me and nodded. I nodded back, prepared to murder anything that moved when he opened the door. Hero and I had worked well together when we were partners, and I knew we would do so again. I've known him for nearly as long as I can remember, and he's been the closest thing to a father I've ever had. When I came of age, and was old enough to begin helping with the duties of the Rollers, my mother insisted that I work with Hero. She didn't trust anyone more than him. Over the years of working together, Hero and I had developed a close bond. We often finished each other's sentences and had a nearly sixth sense when cooperating in a fight.

A couple of years ago there had been an attack on our camp, and my son was injured. What happened was my fault, and I've never forgiven myself for letting up my guard for even a second. I swore to never do it again. My change in attitude was hard for Hero to accept, and he often said that I'd changed for the worse. It was shortly after the attack that Annie started going on missions as well. My mother insisted that Hero protect her, and so our partnership was ended. I appreciated that Annie would have Hero to watch over her, but I missed my old partner, despite our differences. He said that it wasn't his idea to dissolve our partnership, but I always suspected that he told my mother to force the change. I never forgave Hero, or my mother, for that betrayal. Afterward, I took up with a former raider named Stitch that joined our crew. She and I worked well together, but I was always jealous of Annie's burgeoning friendship with Hero.

Now Stitch was dead, locked in the back of this trailer that Hero and I were about to open.

Hero pulled at the latch and the doors popped open. A thin line of black split the two doors and I aimed my pistol between them as Hero stepped back and drew his gun as well. We waited, and watched, as the doors sat silent.

"Come on out, mother fuckers." Hero called out to the creatures in the truck.

Another uneventful moment passed.

"Is it safe?" asked Celeste from behind me.

"No."

We waited another moment. Hero glanced at me, and I nodded to him, completing a wordless interaction that let him know I agreed he should open the doors wider. He was on the right side, while I stood centered, aiming the pistol through the slat. He held his gun with his left hand and reached out with his right to grab the handle.

Then the door burst wide before he had a chance to open it.

The first creature hit the door and then fell face first into the dirt. It was a woman, but it wasn't Hailey or Stitch. I dispatched her quickly with two shots to the back of her skull. Her head bounced with the second shot and a mix of blackened blood and foam splashed as her pink brains sprayed out over the dry earth.

The floodgates were opened, and the living dead poured forth. They forced the doors wide and fell out of the truck faster than we could shoot them. The first few hit the ground similar to the girl I'd just shot, debilitated by the fall and left vulnerable to a quick kill shot, but then the rest came at us with better footing. They lunged off the edge of the truck and stayed upright as they descended the pile of bodies below.

I was using a stainless Smith & Wesson 1911 with a low profile and no back sights. It had a beaver tail grip that helped keep my aim steady and I always carried two loaded eight round magazines with me in addition to what it was loaded with. The first nine shots went quickly, and the crowd of undead faces looming within the dark truck hardly seemed to dissipate. I had been putting the creatures down with two shots each, because it was foolish to assume that one shot always did the trick, but I was forced to retreat and slow my assault in fear of running out of ammo.

"Loading," I said to let Hero know he needed to cover me. We took turns killing, and I was the first to fire, which meant I needed to load quickly and then cover him as he did the same.

"Loading," he said just as I finished.

The creatures were coming out too fast, and there were more than we could handle. "Move back," I said and started to take steps away from the truck. Hero did the same, and I didn't have to worry about what position he would take. We fought perfectly together, and he knew to take flank while I stayed at six o'clock. It was a choreographed assault that would help split the ranks of the creatures while affording us the ability to cover one another.

Celeste was the wildcard, and I'd forgotten she was
there. I assumed she would move behind me, like any normal person would, but she walked forward with her stick held far in front.

"Get back here!"

She ignored me.

I ran forward to grab her, but the swell of creatures moved quicker. They swarmed, and I was forced to retreat as the foolhardy stranger wandered into their midst.

"Clockwise," I screamed to Hero, telling him to come my way to avoid hitting Celeste with his gunfire.

"What's she doing?" he asked, but the screams of the dead and the ringing in my ears from the shots made it hard to hear him.

I was furious with her, until I saw what she could do. Celeste whipped her simple stick through the air with deadly accuracy. Each strike debilitated her attacker, and despite wading into the sea of flailing arms and gnashing jaws, she easily avoided their attacks. I saw the stick break against a zombie's jaw and feared that Celeste would be overcome. Her weapon hadn't broken in two, but was severely bent and she took it by either end before snapping it the rest of the way. Now she was armed with two halves, the ends jagged and sharp, and changed her fighting style to accommodate the new weapons. She swiped the sticks at the creatures as if wielding swords and took them out twice as fast as before. I watched in shock and she caught my glance during one of her twirling assaults.

She smiled and winked at me.

"What the fuck?" I murmured before shooting another creature in the face.

Hero came around to stand beside me, and we did our best to protect the girl from the creatures that surrounded her, but I don't think she needed our help. We watch in awe as she plunged her makeshift weapons into the creatures over and over. One of the zombies moved around her side, and I took aim but wasn't able to get a shot off before Celeste spun and put her stick through the back of the monster's head. The jagged spike punctured the corpse's neck and jutted out of his mouth before she threw him to the ground. Her tree-limb-sword was still lodged in the creature's head, but she continued to fight without it.

"Awesome!" Hero shouted with giddy enthusiasm and I couldn't help but agree.

Celeste stood above the mass of corpses, bloodied and exuberant. She still held one half of her staff and looked around for any other attackers, but none were left.

"Is that all of them? Are we done?" she asked as she looked at our stunned faces.

"Who the fucking hell are you, girl?" asked Hero with a laugh.

She shrugged. "I was trained for this."

"By who? Bruce Lee?" he asked.

"I don't know who that is." She tossed the remaining shard of her weapon into stack of bodies.

Hero holstered his gun and I did the same. He reached out to help Celeste step over the corpses. "Babe, I've got some movies back home that you're going to love. Trust me."

"Who trained you?" I asked, bewildered by her prowess.

"The place that I came from, t
he Facility."

"No shit?" asked Hero. "Why in the hell are they training chicks to kill zombies when they're the ones making them? That doesn't make any sort of sense at all."

She shrugged and shook the fresh blood off her hands before swiping hair out of her eyes. "I don't know, but all of us were trained to fight with staves."

"You're good," I said. "No doubt about that, but the next time you step in my line of fire, I'm going to beat your ass myself. Understood?"

"Sorry," she said. "I got excited."

I glared at her to make sure she understood I was serious. I was impressed by what she'd done, but it was an unnecessary risk.

"Chill out, Kim," said Hero. "This ninja just butt-fucked a truck full of zombies. Give her a break."

I glared at him, and he shut up. "Come on," I said as I held my hand out for Celeste. "Let's go find your friend."

We climbed into the back of the truck, which had been nearly cleared of bodies now. It wasn't hard to find Hailey. Her brilliant red hair was visible even in the dark trailer, and we pulled away the corpses that covered her. Celeste wrapped her arms around the girl and pulled her close. Rigor mortis had already set in, but enough time had passed that her body started to loosen slightly. Still though, Celeste had to drag the stiff corpse of her lover into her lap where she wept over her.

I turned away, but didn't want to leave her alone. If one of the bodies in here stirred, I needed to be here to put it down. The virus that created the zombies could lie dormant in corpses, and even though the bodies looked dead, it was a mistake to assume they weren't dangerous.

I caught sight of Stitch. My former partner was pressed against the back of the trailer, her head perched at an odd angle after sliding back and forth in the rear of the truck during our trip.

I'm a callous, uncaring woman.

This was the moment I realized it.

I was staring at Stitch, a girl that I'd spent countless hours beside, who had saved my life more times than I'd saved hers, and she was dead to me. I felt nothing when I stared at her corpse. No emotions stirred in me except the concern that Stitch's eyes would open. I liked her when she was alive, but now she was gone, and I felt no sorrow when I stared at her body.

When had I become like this? The attack that crippled my son had steeled my resolve, but it wasn't the only thing that robbed me of normal human compassion. My thoughts drifted back to the Red Days, before the apocalypse had begun. I'd been five when the Red World ended, and only had scant recollections of what it had been like before the zombies appeared. I could remember my father, although he was always working. I remembered my sister's closet, where she would hide candy behind a mountain of stuffed animals. I remembered my mother singing as she cut up apples for me to eat as a snack on the blanket that was laid out in front of the television. Then I thought about the day I watched my mother shoot a police officer with a shotgun. I remembered holding my hands over my eyes, with my fingers parted just enough to see the man's face explode into a mass of gore. While many of my memories of childhood were hazy, that particular one was as clear as day. I wish I could forget it.

"I'm ready," said Celeste. She looked over in the direction I'd been staring and saw Stitch. "Was she your friend?"

I nodded as I blinked away the memory of murder.

"I'm sorry. This must be hard for you."

I looked at her, and was at a loss for words.

She hugged me, and I rigidly accepted the embrace though I didn't need it. It felt awkward, and I wasn't sure if she was trying to console me or if she was hoping I'd console her. I just pat her back with three rapid taps.

"Come on, let's go," I said and wormed out of her arms.

Hero helped us down. I grabbed the blanket and then we headed for the stream where we could wash off. The virus is a bloodborne pathogen, which made the mess that clung to us dangerous.

Hero went west to afford us some privacy as I led Celeste down the rocky embankment to the shallow stream. The water was icy after its descent from the mountains and Celeste yelped after dipping the tips of her fingers in to test the temperature.

"You're kidding, right?" she asked. "You expect me to wash off in this? It's freezing."

I shrugged and knelt down to test the water for myself. "You're right, it's cold, but we don't have any other choice. Go ahead and get undressed. You can wrap up in the blanket after washing off."