In the Lone and Level Sands (38 page)

“It’s been so quiet in here since those men
murdered those officers and took this place over,” Emily said. She
glanced around the stadium. Afterward, she leaned back on her cot
and fanned her face with a book from her purse. She had discarded
her black dress jacket long before, and was now wearing just her
white undershirt.

“It’s not quiet at all, unless you use
these,” Billy said. He held up his ear plugs, then threw them down
carelessly and pointed to the wall. “It’s those damn zombies out
there, they make so much noise. They want in.”

“I kinda wonder what the new ringmasters
will do when one of those barricades bursts,” Francine said. “Will
they try to cover it back up, or just protect their own asses?”

“They’d likely do their very best to get out
before any of us,” Martha said. “I don’t have a hint of a doubt
that those rat-bastards would do everything they could to make sure
those creatures get to us before they get to
them
.”

“We ought to make a plan for when the
stadium goes under,” Alan said, still scratching the last bits of
his thoughts down on paper. He set the book beside him, the pen on
top. “Because it won’t last like this much longer, guys.” His head
turned from face to face, falling over Martha’s last. “No, these
walls will collapse, and judging by the barricade on each exit,
quickly. They won’t last long at all.”

“Good thinking!” Francine said. “What did
you have in mind?”

“Well, the barricaded walkway nearest us
should be our escape point, without a doubt.”

“Great,” Emily said. “That’s your grand
escape plan? ‘Head for the nearest exit’? Were you up all night
writing that one in your notebook?”

Alan ignored Emily. “We’ll just have to work
for our freedom once we get there. That barricade is made of
plywood, and there are tables and things against it as well. We’ll
need to be fast about it.”

“Quite true,” Martha said before a
wide-mouthed yawn.

“You sure seem tired,” Alan said.

“Dear, I have not gotten a moment of good
sleep since we got here. I’m too old for this bullshit, you
know.”

“I’m sorry,” Alan said. He looked nervously
around the place. Most people were trying to find ways to keep
cool. “It’s hard to breathe in here.”

“It’s stuffy for sure,” Francine said. Her
fair complexion had taken on a little shine from the sweat.

“Wish those assholes would just get eaten by
the cannibals so we could go home,” Billy said.

One of the aforementioned assholes casually
passed them by. He hadn’t heard Billy’s remark, but he still
sneered at Martha and the others as he went, a sort of reminder of
who was in charge and how much they loved it. He continued in the
direction he was going and eventually faded into the blur of summer
heat and hundreds of people.

Martha turned away, bringing her attention
to the spot beside her on the cot. She picked up the picture frame
and looked at it for a few minutes. She felt her eyes begin to
moisten again. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at the late
Charlie James, and at her younger self, standing in front of the
Bel-Air.

****

When Martha woke up, she was disoriented.
She thought it was morning, but wasn’t sure. She heard someone
screaming.

“Let me go!”

It was Emily. The others were up, tense with
a mixture of fear and anger.

“When I tell you to do something, you don’t
give me any fucking attitude!” a gunman said. Another gunman held
Emily’s arms, kept her steady. Billy lay on the ground, bleeding
from his nose and mouth. The gunman that shouted slapped Emily as
hard as he could. She screeched in pain, and then coughed. Blood
dripped down her lip. People all around gawked, but did
nothing.

“Leave her alone, you son of a bitch!” Billy
said.

“A mouth like that is going to get you and
your wife in trouble!” the gunman holding Emily said. Angela rocked
back and forth.

“Please let me go, I’ll do whatever you
want, just don’t hurt my family!” Emily said.

“Shut up!” The gunman slapped Emily again.
Angela jumped up and headed for him.

“Angela, no!” Emily said. The gunman lifted
his assault rifle and pulled the trigger, shooting a small spray
into Angela’s chest. She fell to the ground and was dead within
seconds. The other gunman threw Emily down, and she scrambled over
to Angela’s body. The two gunmen surveyed the group, exchanged
glances, and then walked away.

“Angela!” Emily said. Huge sobs were
escaping her. Phil turned to jump the gunmen, but Billy grabbed his
arm. He had to hold Phil back, and finally Phil fell to his knees
and cried. Jesse embraced his father, as it was all he could do to
keep from charging the men himself.

Martha just sat on her cot, tears rushing
down her face. Alan and Francine tried to comfort her.

“Angela! No, please!” Emily said. She turned
to the gunman. “You fucking bastards! Burn in hell!” They didn’t
make an effort to respond. Emily looked over Angela’s bloody body
and then hugged it tightly, tears dripping down her cheeks.

****

It was midday. Martha was still tired, but
she dared not sleep after Angela’s murder. She was afraid she’d
wake up to losing another member of her family.

Emily sat near Angela’s body, eyes wet. She
stroked her sister’s cheek now and again. Beverly was on her cot,
just staring. Then came the screams from the front of the
stadium.

A barricade broke down, and zombies poured
into the stadium like a pack of hungry wolves. The nearest gunman
was tackled by two zombies. They bit into him, and he cried out in
pain. More zombies pushed into the stadium. Another gunman was
overcome. He fell to the ground, and several zombies covered him
up, pulling, biting, devouring. Within a minute he had been torn to
shreds.

Wave after wave of zombies squeezed through
the broken barricade, making the opening bigger as they came. The
first few rows of people at their cots scrambled to their feet and
began pushing toward rows farther back. The people whose space they
invaded quickly figured out what was happening. The panic spread
like wildfire as some of the closest people were picked off.
Survivors tripped over cots and other people, all trying to get
away from the zombies.

Martha watched the mass of people heading
for her, trying to flee the zombies. A grown man pushed a child no
older than twelve to the ground in attempt to get away. A few
zombies began tearing into the child. Martha gulped, and stepped
back. Alan, who was just behind her, helped break everyone out of
their horrified trance.

“Come on! This way!”

Emily looked at her sister’s body one last
time. “I’m sorry Angela, we’ve gotta go.” She made to her feet and
joined the others.

The small group headed for the nearest
barricade. The crowds of panicked people were being quickly
swallowed, and it was hard to tell the zombies from the rest of the
crowd.

Martha realized she hadn’t grabbed her
picture frame. She ran back. Emily turned to her.

“Mom! What are you doing?”

“I have to get my picture! I have to!”

“Grandma! Hurry! Please!” Francine said. She
took an unsteady step toward Martha.

“I’ve got it!” Martha said, inhaling deeply,
and then she rushed to the others, following them to the barricade.
They arrived shortly.

“All right, everyone, help me rip this shit
down!” Billy said.

Everyone worked at the barricade, even
Martha. It came apart easily enough, but it was a time-consuming
process, and they had very little time to spare.

The air was filled with screams and
gunshots. The survivors were able to get the barricade torn down to
about four feet high, and they could already see the mass of tables
and chairs on the other side, which were meant to keep the zombies
from reaching the plywood to begin with. Now, it would only serve
to slow the survivors, but the walkway beyond the jumbled mess was
clear.

“Mom, can you get over this all right?”
Emily asked.

“I think so,” Martha said. “I’ll need help,
I think.”

Alan helped Martha over the plywood and onto
the other side. The others followed, and stopped to catch their
breath on the other side of the tables and chairs.

Phil grimaced as streams of tears fell down
his cheeks.

“Thank God,” Alan said. “I can’t believe we
made it out.”

“God?” Phil said. “Your bloodthirsty God
took my Angela!”

Alan looked Phil in the eye, sighed, and
said, “Life isn’t always fair. Someone once told me that.” Phil
pursed his lips together and tried to repress the tears. Everyone
was silent for a while, and then Alan spoke again. “We should go.”
Everyone gathered themselves, moved down the walkway, and emerged
under an overcast sky.

40

Outside the Community College

“All right, first thing’s first!” Lou said,
almost right into Max’s ear. “Let’s clear these motherfuckers out
of here!”

Lou seemed excited. Max hoped he was excited
to help people and not just to kill zombies. Max couldn’t tell if
the two were synonymous yet, but the thought that Lou just wanted a
kill count made him uncomfortable. He tried to push it aside and
have some faith in the soldiers.

“So, what? We split up?” Johns said.

“Yeah,” Ortiz replied. “There had to be
people on campus when it went down. We clear them all out of here,
and then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

“I recommend we do this as quietly as
possible,” Lou said. “Otherwise we’ll just be attracting more of
them.”

“Okay,” Johns said. “Who’s taking the
kid?”

The soldiers exchanged glances. Max felt
more like a burden than ever.

“I’ll take him with me,” Ortiz said.

“Okay. There’s a campus map in the center of
the courtyard. We’ll clear out the courtyard together, then split
up and take separate buildings.”

“I don’t think I know exactly how this
works,” Max said, rotating the assault rifle in his hands, looking
it over, and making sure not to touch anywhere near the
trigger.

“It’s not that complicated, kid,” Lou said,
raising his gun and firing. The sound made Max flinch and left his
ears ringing, and he wondered how they considered this
quiet
.
“You just point it at the zombies and pull the
fucking trigger.”

A zombie came jogging toward them from
across the courtyard. Lou raised his gun and fired, and the zombie
fell to the ground, rolled forward, and then stopped moving. It
looked as simple as Lou had made it sound.

“Is that how they explained it to you in
boot camp?” Max asked.

“In boot camp, we were learning how to fight
terrorists,” Lou said. The soldiers started walking carefully and
slowly forward, and Max followed. “We were learning how to get on
the ground, get our job done, and get out.” Lou raised his gun. A
small group of zombies stood in the parking lot on the other side
of the courtyard. They had stopped moving, and stared at Max and
the soldiers. To the left, Johns raised his gun and took out a
zombie that had come rushing out from the shadows below an awning.
The noise startled the zombies across the way, who ran toward the
group. The soldiers raised their guns, but Max left his down, both
of his arms extended as though he could barely hold the thing.
Ortiz noticed this.

“Lift your gun, kid. Be ready to fire,
always be ready to fire.”

Max raised his gun. The zombies were getting
closer.

“Wait for it—” Ortiz said, but Max had
already pulled the trigger.

The recoil was greater than he thought it
would be. The gun immediately pulled up, though Max was pretty sure
he wouldn’t have hit a thing even if it hadn’t. He almost couldn’t
let go, but he forced himself to, just as the recoil got so bad
that he lost his balance and fell down.

The soldiers were shouting, apparently
thrown off guard. Johns started firing, and only one zombie fell.
Lou and Ortiz joined in, and in a few seconds, the zombies were all
dead. None had made it within ten yards of the group, but it
somehow felt too close.

Lou walked over to Max and grabbed his
shirt. He lifted Max up roughly but not cruelly.

“Nobody ever taught us how to shoot at
people,” he said. “Not like this. We were told to be on guard for
people who seemed civilian but could be enemies in disguise… But
never this. Never what used to be normal, good human beings.” Lou’s
voice cracked. When he continued, it remained wavery. “We were
taught how to fire at people running toward us with bombs strapped
to their chests, not college students with backpacks still strapped
to their backs. Not children still holding teddy bears.” Lou looked
up into the sky. “Nobody ever taught us how to do that. Nobody ever
could.”

Max was beginning to think he would never be
ready to fire his gun.

“I’m thinking the recoil on this thing may
be a bit much for the kid to start off with,” Johns said.

“Maybe we should give him something
lighter,” Lou said. His voice sounded normal again. “At least until
we can train him to use that thing properly. I’m thinking a target
range will look great just over there.”

The group walked a few yards to the campus
map, a marble block outside of a building in the center of the
grassy ring. Ortiz read it out loud.

“Okay, it looks like we have the mess hall
to the left, math and science next to that… We’ve got humanities
and resources to the right, the tornado shelter right here in the
middle of the courtyard, and the library is between HR and
math-science. One big circle.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Johns said. “Sounds
well-built, too.”

“How so?” Max asked.

“It has a circular design,” Ortiz said. “We
can clear the buildings out, and then start the shelter out small.
We’ll barricade the center building, the tornado shelter. Should be
perfect for our base of operations. When that’s all set up, we’ll
keep the campus cleared out, and go out and collect more resources.
Eventually, we can set up a big barricade
outside
of the
buildings, around the campus, and then we have our little community
started.”