Orpheus (27 page)

Ethan extricated himself and patted down the pockets. He hoped the lump in the man's right one was what he thought it was. He had a hard time getting his hand inside the taut fabric, but when his fingers closed on jagged metal, he was reinvigorated. He freed the keys with a hard yank. He heard the fabric tear as he did, and the keys were free.

"Thanks, Tex," Ethan said as he sprinted back up the stairs. He hoped the large man had a large ride.

Chapter 21: Familiar Territory

Ethan experienced an odd moment when he made it to the parking lot. The first thing he had to do was wait until the helicopter had gone. As he'd suspected, it wasn't a rescue. It was an escape. If he wasn't mistaken, its path would take it right into town. He had no idea why anyone would willingly go into that area, but didn't really have any time to waste thinking about it.

He had just started walking through the lot in search of Tex's Cadillac. At least, the keychain was for a Cadillac. He hoped that Tex wasn't one of those guys who headfaked people with a high-end keychain but really drove a POS. He assumed that a man of Tex's size would choose to park as closely as possible, so he began at the handicapped spaces and pressed the unlock button on the fob every few seconds, straining to hear that telltale short beep.

Luck was with him, and he soon heard the beep. He hit the button a few more times until he had pinpointed the exact location. It was, Ethan was relieved to find, not only a Cadillac, but an SUV. He couldn't have asked for better. He only hoped the battery was still good. It had only been sitting for about three weeks; in warm weather, that shouldn't present a problem.

He hadn't gotten halfway there when a dark figure came out of the woods near the back edge of the lot. At first, he'd thought it was one of Trent's goons and ducked behind a car, but it wasn't moving like one. It didn't move like a zombie, either.

It moved like a man out for a stroll in the woods. This was reinforced by the fact that the man was speaking. Ethan strained to make out the words.

They were numbers. "...seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three..."

And there Ethan was, spying on a man who was walking alone in a zombie infested town and seemingly unconcerned by it, counting whatever he was counting. But he was a human, and the vehicle had plenty of room, so Ethan felt honor-bound to see if he wanted to come along. He stood and threw out a tentative, "Sir?"Are you okay?"

The man continued walking toward him, and counting.

Great,
Ethan thought. He keyed his mic and whispered, "Rachel. You at the door?"

"Yes."

"Okay, get ready to move. You'll see a big black Escalade in the second row, right behind the handicapped spaces. Head right to that. I think we picked up another passenger."

"Huh?"

"I'll explain when we get moving. Hold on a sec..." He left the counting man where he was and walked to the SUV. Ethan opened the door, put the key in, mentally crossed his fingers, and turned. The engine roared to reassuring life. The man turned his head at the noise, but never lost his place counting. "We're in business. Come on out."

Two seconds later, a door opened and the group of five moved quickly towards the SUV. Even Trent, who wanted to escape from whatever he'd helped to unleash in the school, seemed to be cooperating.

Ethan turned back to the man. At some point his count had flipped back to the beginning, because he was in the twenties. "Sir, you've got to come with me, okay? Can you hear me?" He got no response other than more numbers. "I don't want to leave you here, but-"

"Ethan," Ann whispered.

"Just get in the car, already," he said, without taking his eyes from the counting man. "Man, I will leave you here if you don't move your ass."

"Ethan!" This time it was more of an urgent hissper. It got his attention. "What?"

Ann said nothing, but she was pointing off to Ethan's right. He turned and saw no less than twenty zombies walking towards them. He froze. "Do they see us?"

Five heads nodded vigorously.

Then why aren't they charging?
Ethan wondered. It almost didn't matter, because even at their entirely uncharacteristic slow pace the zombies would be closer to the SUV than the survivors were in a few seconds. They'd left in such a hurry that they had no weapons at the ready, other than a pipe and a single pistol with maybe ten rounds left. They couldn't retreat, because the door that they came out of would have locked automatically. He motioned for the group to continue to the car.
Slowly,
he mouthed. They hesitated, and he reiterated,
GO.

They began to move at an agonizingly slow pace that was still somehow faster than the zombies' almost disinterested shuffle. The zombies showed no signs of aggression. They seemed almost...docile. Ethan took the counting man by his elbow and tugged. He didn't respond well to voice commands, but he let himself be led easily enough. "There you go, buddy. Almost there."

Rachel's group made it to the SUV and began to pile in through the open driver's side door. Ethan was struck by how much it reminded him of clowns climbing out of a tiny car, only in reverse. "A few more steps pal," Ethan said. The zombies were uncomfortably close to Ethan and his guest, not that any distance between a human and a zombie could truly be classified as "comfortable."

They made it to the door, and Ethan had to turn his back on the zombies only a handful of yards away so he could push the counting man into the SUV. Rachel and Sister Ann helped, as Harold and Jason were in the far back seat with Trent between them. Ethan climbed in a shut the door as silently as he could. They weren't completely out of the woods yet, but they had a big, heavy ride with a full tank of gas. The zombies began to close around the SUV. A few got close enough to press their faces against the driver's side windows while some others circled around. Ethan studied them out of the corner of his eye; they were looking
past
him.

At what? Him?

Trent said what Ethan was thinking. "Why are they looking at this guy?"

"The Count? I don't care. I'm going to try and nudge through them." He put the SUV into low gear and started to push forward. The brush guard did an admirable impression of a cowcatcher. "I think we're good." Neither Ethan nor the man in the shotgun seat had put on their seatbelt, and an irritating beeping sound chastised them.

That was when The Count screamed and lunged across the front seat. Ethan instinctively threw a stiff arm into the man's forehead, but that only gave a temporary respite. He slipped it and came again. Ethan managed to get his right knee into the man's chest, but he no longer had control of the vehicle. It kept rolling forward toward the school. "Ah! Get it off me!!!"

Inside, The Count snarled and began to try to take a bite out of Ethan. Outside, the once-docile zombies exploded into a frenzy and launched themselves against the SUV. They pounded against the glass. Some even climbed on and tried to punch their way through the moonroof.

Rachel tried to hit The Count with her pipe, but she had no room to swing. "Gun! gun!" she yelled.

Harold leaned forward as far as he could. "I don't have the shot!"

Trent just kept yelling, "Kill it! kill it!"

"Give it to me then!" Rachel snatched the gun away and put it to the side of The Count's head. Before she could pull the trigger, the still-moving vehicle collided with the school. The impact was just jarring enough to make Rachel drop the gun on the front seat, under The Count. "Shit!" She reached over the seatback but had to yank back sharply as The Count got a mouthful of her shirtsleeve. Her head slammed into the window, and she was dazed.

"I can't get it!" Ethan yelled, still doing everything he could to avoid getting savaged by The Count.

"Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!"

The report of the pistol was as loud as a thunderclap in the enclosed space. The right side of The Count's head exploded all over the dashboard and windshield. Ethan kicked him away and he slumped against the passenger window. From the left side, he could have been sleeping. From the right, he had no face.

Ethan put the SUV in reverse. His pant leg got caught on the center console, so he floored it with his left. Everyone was thrown forward, including The Count, as they rocketed backward and through the crowd. Another gear change and acceleration and they were clear enough for Ethan to slow down a little and untangle himself.

When everyone's breathing returned to normal, Ethan said, "What. The. FUCK. Just happened?"

Rachel had completely regained her senses. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you."

"Me? I didn't do anything. I dropped the gun."

"Oh. Ann? Was it you? Ann?" Ethan got no answer. Instead of turning around to talk to her and taking his eyes off of the road, he readjusted the rearview mirror. She looked paler than usual. Ethan panned down and saw the gun still clenched tightly in her right hand. "Ann?" She still said nothing. "Rach? A little help here?"

She realized what had happened. She slid her hand over Sister Ann's and gently pried the gun loose. She handed it to Ethan who put the safety on and placed it in the center console. "Ann, are you okay?" She patted her hands rapidly as she spoke. "Come on, say something."

"Dear Lord," she finally said. "What am I becoming?"

"You're not becoming anything, Sister. You saved Ethan's life. You saved all of our lives."

"I murdered a man."

"That thing," Ethan interjected, "was not a man."

"Fuckin'-a right," Trent said from the back seat.

"Shut the fuck up, Trent. And why is he still with us?”

Harold took the cue and placed a piece of duct tape over Trent's protesting mouth. "I don't know. We're just doing what you told us."

"He'll have information," Sister Ann said, her voice faraway. "We might need it."

"Okay. We need to find a place to ask some questions. Any ideas? Anyone?"

"Oh, we're close to that general store!" Jason said. "We need to stock up anyway, right?"

"And I have an idea where we can go after that," Rachel added.

"Where?"

Rachel shut him down. "Not yet." She threw a subtle glance backwards that was meant only for Ethan. It meant,
Not in front of him.

"Right. Store, it is. But first..." He pulled over to the side of the road and checked to make sure that they were alone. There were no zombies in sight. That didn't mean there weren't any near them, but he only needed a few seconds. He jumped out and ran around to the passenger door. He pulled it open and the dead man fell out with a muted thud on the pavement. He grabbed him by the wrists and dragged him to the edge of the woods, taking great care to avoid looking at the remains of the head. His eulogy consisted of, "Sorry, Count."

Then he was back in the SUV, heading to the store.

* * *

Ethan backed up to Chappy's General and Liquor. He and Rachel climbed out first to make sure there would be no surprises outside. The rest waited. They made a slow, deliberate circuit of the exterior with their flashlights off. Their adjusted vision was enough to see that there was no movement other than the swaying of the trees in the increasingly stiff breeze. Ethan had been an island kid all of his life, and he knew that those winds meant there was a storm coming.
And why wouldn't there be a storm coming? It's all this movie is missing.

The two of them stayed close as they walked through the barn-style entry door. The tinkle of the bell overhead made them both jump. Ethan was afraid that they would have to deal with a clerk, a few customers, or maybe even Chappy himself, but they found nothing but evidence that people had been there recently. The shelves had been rummaged through, the liquor had been partially savaged, the cash register was open (and empty), and a few cartons of cigarettes lay on the counter. It wasn't any kind of organized raid; more likely, people just made impulse grabs when everything had kicked off.

When Ethan was satisfied that they had the place all to themselves, he waved everyone else inside. He told everyone to keep their flashlight use to a minimum so they wouldn't be too visible to any outsiders, specifically Trent's friends from the roof. Rachel, Jason, and Ann went to work grabbing food, water, and better flashlights, one of which Ethan took for himself. He and Harold escorted their captive to Chappy's office. They shoved him into the chair behind the desk. Harold went overboard with the duct tape, and Trent was going nowhere.

"Go help them, please, Harold," Ethan said. "I don't want to be here any longer than a few more minutes."

Harold was clearly reluctant to leave Ethan alone with Trent, and for multiple reasons. "Umm, are, are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Harold still hesitated. "It's fine. I promise."

Ethan shut the door behind Harold, then returned to Trent. Some clouds passed in front of the moon. A dim room was made even dimmer, and Ethan heard the first drops of rain spatter against the window. He turned on his flashlight and stood it up on end. "I'm not even going to ask you who or why. Just tell me where you're supposed to meet at 8:30."