DISEASE: A Zombie Novel (19 page)

Lot forces herself to stand. She wants to stay and play some more, but it’s too dangerous a game. This is just an amuse-bouche, she’ll have to wait for the main course.

Darius bolts into the kitchen, as expected after Danny’s outburst, and he’s brought friends. They are at her side in seconds. Danny continues to holler.

“Are you alright?” Darius looks ill with fright.

“Yes. Thank you.”

A guard slams the cooler door shut, cutting off Danny’s voice. He throws the padlock on. “Are you sure you’re alright?” The concerned faces of guards surround her. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine, really, I promise. He’s manic. Psychotic. I shouldn’t have come down here, it’s too much of a strain on me.” Lot leans against Darius for support. “Please help me back to my room.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And please have Julie see to the prisoner, he needs medical attention.”

All the guards nod.

Darius supports Lot through the kitchen. Just as they are about to leave she looks back over her shoulder at the remaining guards. “Tonight he’ll be standing judgment for his crimes. Please see to it that he’s well gagged when the proceedings begin so that no one else has to endure his hysterical abuse.”

“With pleasure.”

“Thank you. And please, try to be gentle.”

When she’s gone the guards share a look. They’ll be gentle all right, as gentle as kittens.

A twig whips across Alex’s cheek, leaving a thin red mark. He forces his legs to pump as fast as they can, his beat up shoes snagging traction wherever possible, his knapsack bouncing on his back with each step. Alex keeps Casey’s bat clenched hard in one small fist.

Two once identical creatures lope behind him, their matching tennis outfits dirty and torn. The twins, now starved hounds determined to catch a fox, are still together in undeath, by miracle or mayhem. One is missing half an arm, the other his once precious nose.

Alex careens through the forest. He hurdles over a large rock, landing hard in a bramble bush and wincing as its thorns drag across his skin, opening long ragged wounds. Blood leaps to the surface, spiraling to the ground from the shallow gashes. The thorns grip his clothes, impeding his escape.

Behind him the twins’ strength is unwavering. They never slow to catch their breath, to nurse a wound, or to consider another plan of action. They pursue. No thought, no consciousness. They have only the drive to kill. To eat. To destroy.

Alarm bells sing in Alex’s head, clanging so loud it’s hard to think. The bush’s pointed fingers hold fast to his knapsack and his muscles twitch with fear-induced adrenaline. His head jerks, his lungs burn, and he rips his bag away, tumbling to the ground as the thorns mercifully release.

The twins crash through the brush with ferocity. They don’t feel the thick thorn laden branches bite into their rotten flesh. They don’t notice the soggy chunks of skin they leave behind. They growl and snap at Alex as he scrambles back, jumps to his feet and runs, just ahead of the monsters.

***

Opie sits in a chair centered in the middle of a well-stocked and immaculate hotel room. It’s large, with framed art hanging on the walls and curtains hiding the protective scrap metal over the windows. A mahogany desk boasts a large stack of classic books and even a handful of working ballpoint pens. Several lanterns gutter softly, hanging from an appropriated hat rack.

Lying on the ground before him are Odette’s boy and girl. They press brand-new crayons onto coloring book pages, smiling and chattering, even the teen.

Opie worked hard to procure the books and crayons, and it makes him happy to see them enjoyed. It’s a new feeling; he doesn’t think he’s ever before felt happiness because of someone else’s happiness.

Odette floats into the room with a steaming teapot and cups on a tray. To Opie it almost feels as though nothing else exists outside of this room, but it’s more than a feeling, it’s a wish. He wishes he could stay with Odette and the kids, just like this, forever, and forget about the raging plague outside. Forget about the nonsense with Danny and Lot.

Odette pours coffee from the tea spout, filling two cups, and then sits in the chair next to him. The concerned look on her face bursts Opie’s blissful bubble.

“I can’t believe they brought that animal back here. After what he did to that poor boy? It’s crazy, don’t you think?” she asks.

Opie lifts his steaming cup off the table. It’s lined with real gold, the pot an antique. It doesn’t matter to him that the teacup holds coffee, which he prefers over tea. It’s good to have the nicer things in life, regardless of what shape the world is in now.

“Odette,” Opie pats her knee reassuringly, “Danny must face justice for his crimes, stand as an example. It’s the only true way to protect the people, and your children—our children.” Toe the line, he thinks.

Odette smiles. This is the first time he’s ever referred to the children as “his”. He smiles back, his weaselly face no longer used to the muscle operation required to curve his mouth upward instead of down.

She has no clue, he thinks, wants no clue really, no one does. Everyone wants to live their lives as though things can somehow go back to the way they used to be. As though there’s still a line drawn in the sand between good and evil.

The fact of the matter is that the line was blurred even when the police were a phone call away and you could buy your food in the local supermarket. Now that hazy line is completely obliterated, but people delude themselves into believing it’s still there. They have to, or they’ll see their world has completely fallen apart.

Without Lot, without himself, and without the few others who are able to face reality, this entire community would be in shambles. These people, Odette and the kids, they need him, and those like him, to get ahead in this new world.

Opie sits back, content to allow Odette to bathe in ignorance and naivety. It’s a luxury she doesn’t even know he’s giving her. In more ways than one he considers himself a hero, and the self-reassurance tamps down the demons for yet another day.

Odette sips from her cup. “I hope they make him pay for what he’s done. Lot can’t protect him any longer.”

Opie reaches over, taking her hand comfortingly. “Don’t’ worry. I’m sure Danny will get everything he deserves.”

***

It’s so unfair. After everything they’ve been through. The world came tumbling down around them, but they managed to survive with pure grit and determination. They were survivors. They. Survived. What does it all mean if he’s gone now?

Deep sobs wrack Hannah’s body. She’s covered in blood. The floor is covered in blood. Jamal, her dead son, is covered in blood. It’s everywhere, so much of it. Spilled from his chest, pooling on the table beneath him, its metallic odor filling the air. She wishes she could siphon it up and pour it back into his body.

She and Julie did everything they possibly could. Jamal had cried and begged for life with his very last ounce of strength. He knew he was going to die, but he didn’t want to go, wasn’t ready, and she wasn’t ready to let him go. Now his pleading voice, begging her not to let him die, is carved into her soul.

Hannah grips her son’s lifeless body, shaking him. “No, no, no, no, NO! NO! NO!”

Behind her, Julie stands somberly.

Everyone alive today knows his or her fair share of tragedy and death, but it never gets easier. As the unofficial mortician, Hannah has seen even more than most. Julie rests a gentle hand on the grieving mother’s shoulder.

“Hannah, we need to be sure he stays with God.”

Hannah lifts her head, tears streaming from her eyes and glares at Julie. “Don’t you think I know that?”

Julie nods, sympathetically. She can’t imagine the pain of losing one of her own three children. Somehow, by some miracle, she’s been able to spare her teenaged sons, but it’s been a long road, seeking shelter in the company of the men that would have her, just to be sure her boys were always protected.

Opie was nothing short of a savior when they first met, a bright light in an otherwise murky existence. He never laid a hand on her, never asked for what most men took. For bringing her and her boys under Lot’s sheltering wing he only requested compliance, medical advice, and a closed mouth. For such a pittance, her boys were able to be boys once more, never again to see their mother submitting on her back for gun-toting men.

She owes Opie everything.

Julie watches Hannah as she crosses the room and opens a drawer. Inside is a hammer and a railroad spike. Hannah lifts them, her bloodstained hands shaking. Her heart aches more than tears can ever show.

Hannah’s heavy feet carry her back to Jamal’s side. He’s so still now, so quiet, and yet it’s hard for her to believe he’s really gone.

“Julie, can you leave us please, I’d like to be alone with my son.”

“You don’t have to do this. I can—”

“No. He’s the only one I had left in the world, the only person that mattered. Go be with your three treasures and leave me. The last thing I can do for my son now is to prepare his body for final rights.”

Julie nods, unable to say anything helpful. Hannah’s grief worn eyes stare back at her.

“I need to be alone with him now,” she says.

The door clicks shut behind Julie. Hannah lifts the railroad spike and hovers the point above her son’s forehead. Her hand quakes, unable to touch the rusty point to Jamal’s ashen skin.

***

Alex doesn’t think he can run much longer. It feels like he’s been running forever, and the twins are still in staunch pursuit. Ahead, a large log lies in his path. He leaps, his drained body making its best effort, but it isn’t good enough. His foot tangles in undergrowth and he sprawls to his hands and knees, his palms scraping rocks. Six feet ahead is a jagged ledge with a steep drop.

The twin with one arm clears the log without effort, landing directly behind Alex. The second creature gets its leg jammed between branches.

The one-armed creature hooks its fingers around Alex’s knapsack and drags him backward. Alex twists, tries to hit the thing with Casey’s bat. Teeth whisper by his ear and he smacks the ghoul’s face away just in time, then swivels out of his knapsack, leaving One-Arm with its cotton and rayon prize.

There’s no other place left to go but back. Alex rolls between the first creature’s legs, bat still in hand and comes face to face with No-Nose, trapped by the log.

He rams the butt of the bat into the thing’s face. Its head snaps back giving Alex the split second he needs to scramble to his feet and leap away, back over the log.

He soars above No-Nose and the creature snags his ankle. Alex crashes to the ground, his teeth rattling in his head. He flips gymnastically around, wrenches his leg away and clambers backward.

One-Arm, no longer suckered by the knapsack, rockets over the other creature and dives for Alex. Alex grunts, slamming both of his feet into the thing’s face. Lips split and teeth cascade from the front of the ghoul’s mouth, the blow sending it flying back into its brother.

Alex races to his feet and sprints away, running blindly. Another steep drop unfolds before him. At the bottom is a rocky streambed, muddied by the rain and as bereft of life as the two corpses hot on his heels.

Alex slides in the gravelly loam beneath his feet, the worn treads of his shoes unable to grip. One-Arm hits with the weight of a freight truck and they slam forward, skidding over rocks and branches, sliding to a stop just before plunging over the side of the drop. Chunks of dirt and rock spray downward, landing twenty feet below.

Alex shoves at the creature on top of him, snorting with the effort, using Casey’s bat to hold it at bay, and is able to swing himself on top of the ghoul. The thing struggles relentlessly, its jaws opening and closing around the ash wood separating it from a late afternoon meal.

The second twin, at last free from the log, tackles. Alex is sandwiched between rotten flesh. The force of the impact is so great it knocks the wind out of him and the ground beneath the three gives way. Casey’s bat flies down the slope, along with One-Arm. The creature spins and bounces, hitting rocks that break bones as it smashes to the bottom.

Alex plummets over the side of the ledge, directly toward One-Arm. He flails, grasping at loose dirt and mud. A rock strikes his ribcage, nearly bruising his lungs and he gasps, involuntarily trying to regain his breath as soil and dust clog his airway. His fingers drag across hard, wet earth unable to find purchase.

As he plunges toward certain death, Alex wraps a hand around a tree root and he grips it with all his strength. His descent abruptly comes to an end, almost tearing his arm from its socket. He dangles from the root halfway down the slope. The thing below frantically tries to climb, its rotten smile welcoming Alex into hell.

Above him, No-Nose, somehow avoiding the fall, hungrily dances back and forth.

Alex pants, his bruised ribs are a nuisance. His feet dangle like tasty meat pies, just out of One-Arm’s reach as he clings to the side trying to regain his breath.

Slowly he pulls himself up the slope, seeking out roots and rocks, dragging himself up hand over hand. The muddy slope is slippery and threatens to throw him into the gullet of the ghoul below.

No-Nose trots back and forth waiting impatiently for its food to crest. The creature almost looks as though it’s smiling with glee—there’s nothing quite like delivery. Alex carefully nears the top, stopping just out of the thing’s reach. He eyes it, clear, alert, and focused.
Try a little harder, Alex.

With bleeding fingers gripped firmly around a protruding rock he waves a hand, antagonizing the creature above him. The creature throws itself to the ground, its long, nearly unscathed arms stretch down.

Alex dodges a dirty hand. As No-Nose bellows with displeasure he grabs one of the creature’s wrists and, with a grunt, pulls with all his strength. The monster’s grotesque, twisted face passes a hair’s width from the boy as it spills over the side.

As it thrashes by, the creature snags Alex’s foot. It hangs by one hand, unconcerned with staying its fall, but trying desperately to latch onto its meal. The weight of the creature is that of a full-grown man and it stretches Alex to the point where he feels like he’s ripping in half. The rock he holds on to wobbles in the dirt.

Alex kicks at the creature frantically with his free foot. It claws at him, trying to climb his leg, its teeth close on his shoe, but it gets nothing but a mouthful of worn canvas. The shoe slides away from Alex’s foot and No-Nose tumbles down the slope to join its brother.

Sweating and over-exerted, Alex lugs himself the rest of the way up the embankment. Safe at the top he falls to the dirt, gasping for air, grimacing with each breath, his bruised ribs paining him.

For a few minutes he can’t move. He lies on his back, shielding his eyes from the rays of sunlight that push through the trees. They grow so bright he has to look away. Finally, he peeks his face back over the ledge. Far below, the twins paw at the sides of the creek bed, too stupid to know how to climb. They turn their ugly, gnarled faces toward Alex and groan inhumanly, hungry for his flesh.

Just over the side, Alex notices Casey’s bat caught up in some weeds. He reaches for it. With his fingertips he’s able to grasp the handle and pull the weapon up. Now all he needs is his knapsack.

***

Lot gazes over the sea of people, squashed together like sardines. There are so many that proceedings had to be moved from the meeting room to the hotel’s modest banquet area.