Plagued: The Midamerica Zombie Half-Breed Experiment (Plagued States of America) (7 page)

Eighteen

They drove west along a twisting two-lane road that sagged toward the lake. Large sections of the road had eroded in places, forcing the duck to keep a slower pace than they had managed on the main highway. The bridge Mike thought was intact turned out to be fine. The road on the other side, however, had fallen into the river, leaving a six foot wide gap. Peske made everyone get off the duck and stand on the bridge while he drove around to the mouth of the river to ford. Being on the ground again made Tom feel vulnerable, exposed if any zombies should amble along. How would they escape if any came? The three hunters kept mindful watch in all directions, but it wasn’t any comfort.

The duck nosed into the river, leaning precariously to the side as if it might fall. As the vehicle shook one way, Tom watched Penelope holding onto the bars of her cage, getting jostled repeatedly. “Hang on,” Peske kept telling her over his shoulder just before giving the vehicle a little gas. Peske stopped several times, climbing out of his seat to look over the hood into the deep riverbed as the engine idled with a gurgle. He corrected his course slightly and the duck tipped the other direction.

“He’s going to flip it over,” Tyler complained to Hank.

“He’s got it,” Hank said sourly, but he didn’t sound overly convinced of it himself.

Everyone gasped collectively when the duck pitched hard, splashing sidelong in the water. The half-breed fell from one side of her cage to the other and even Peske fell into the passenger seat. The current of the river pushed water over the rail onto the deck. Peske spat curses and climbed back into his seat, buckling himself in. He gave the vehicle two jabs at the gas to get it unstuck and gunned the engine. The duck lurched forward into the water, sinking even further before suddenly coming nose up. The noise of the engine was lost to the water momentarily, leaving only the sputtering and growling from the exhaust spewing skyward. The duck turned to face the river current, sinking slightly until the rear wheels touched ground and the vehicle jolted forward. Again the half-breed was tossed and Tom felt sorry for her having to be subjected to such treatment.

The duck broke free of the water and climbed up the bank on the other side, lurching side to side over rocks and into ruts. The noise of the engine roared to life. Tom felt everyone around him letting out their breath, sighing with relief.

“Come on,” Hank announced. “We’re going to have to jump for it.”

Rick leapt across with no trouble and started jogging ahead to scout the area. Tom found himself near the front of the line, wanting to just get it over with. He looked down the drop. If he missed, it would hurt a lot, but it wouldn’t kill him. The washout was mostly dirt and water. The four who jumped ahead of him hadn’t missed. So like them he took a running start at it. His landing wasn’t as graceful as he had hoped. Tom hit the pavement and took two staggering steps before falling sideways. He scraped the palms of his hands and whacked his elbow hard. Two of the men on the other side helped him to his feet, asking if he was alright.

“I’m fine,” Tom said. “Just hurt my ego.”

The real problem with crossing came near the end. Those who were afraid or lacked confidence waited and worked themselves into such rigid anxiety that Hank had to yell at them. Carrie jumped across right behind Tom, landing much more elegantly. In an effort to make the three scared stragglers jump, Hank pointed her out.

“You pussies,” he yelled at them. “She jumped it no problem. Now jump or we’re going to leave you here.”

“Maybe we can find another crossing for them,” Tyler called back.

By then most everyone waited safely on the duck, including Tyler. Tom sat on the deck next to Penelope’s cage, looking in on her to see if she was injured. Her eyes danced, leery of something, looking out toward the forest on both sides.

“What is it?” Tom asked her as she sniffed the air, her eyes narrowing. “Zombies?”

She shook her head but growled just the same. She stopped looking both ways and turned her attention westward, her nose lifted as she inhaled deeply. Peske walked alongside the cage, watching her.

“What is it, Kitty?” he asked softly, following her stare. The duck engine idled softly making it impossible to tell by the sounds of the forest what may be out there. But there were no sounds except the idling. No birdsong. The birds had disappeared. Maybe they had been gone the whole time, Tom thought.

The half-breed pointed toward the river.

“Something’s coming!” Peske shouted with his hands to his mouth. “Come on!”

Just then Tom could see it. It wasn’t a zombie or another survivor, or anything he imagined, but the dread he felt in the pit of his stomach was the same. A shaggy brown bear emerged along a path on the far side of the river. It was enormous. He had seen live bears in the zoo as a child, but never anything like this. Even the stuffed bear they kept back at Biters Hill was paltry by comparison. If it weighed less than a thousand pounds he would have been surprised. It probably could have stood upright and put its paws on the top rail of the duck.

“Behind you!” Peske shouted. Hank turned and saw the giant bear. Tom couldn’t tell if Hank was frozen with fear or just trying to avoid drawing attention to himself. Hank’s hand patted his side the same way Rick had felt for a sidearm last night. Tom knew that they were accustomed to wearing pistols out here. Tom hated Gary even more than ever. The bear moved slowly, its giant head suspended, fixed on the four figures on the bridge, while its body lumbered forward with that same slow, purposeful gait of a zombie. For a second Tom wondered if bears could be turned
, but gave up the thought.

Peske
rushed for the driver’s seat. The truck ground its way into reverse as the hunter Dave ran toward the bridge to encourage the others to jump for it. One of the frightened men finally got wits about him and ran to jump over. Richard, Tom thought. His name was Richard. Richard leapt into the air and landed short, his foot hitting the asphalt which crumbled beneath him. His momentum carried him and he struck the ground hard. Dave was beside Richard in a second, hauling him up and throwing the man’s groggy arm around his neck.

“Jump!” the others on the duck were screaming. Their shouts seemed to confuse the bear, which glared at the remaining trio from its spot at the other end of the bridge. It was a short bridge. Too short for Hank to still be there, Tom thought. Was it bravery or foolishness? All three of the men turned and ran at the same time, racing for the gap, leaping with all their might. Hank cleared it easily. The one named Eric also made it, hitting the ground hard and unsteady, rolling onto his shoulder with a skidding thud. The one named Matt wasn’t so fortunate. He started his jump way too early and on the wrong leg. He struck the pavement with his upper body, smacking his face on the pavement, but his legs fell into the gap, dragging his limp body with him. Hank spun around and lunged to save him but wasn’t fast enough. Matt lifted his sliding head a moment, his features showing the sudden and stunned awareness of the situation, and then he was gone. Only his hands seemed to remain, and then those too slipped into the void.

The bear charged, forcing Hank to back away. Tom expected the beast to jump over as well, but it stopped short and looked down into the gap.

“No!” Matt screamed. “Help me, please!”

Hank grabbed Eric by the shirt and hauled him to his feet as Dave came back to their aid. All three men stared down the enormous bear, a mere six foot gap between them. The bear stood up, roaring. It must have been eight or nine feet tall. Hank and Dave backed away quickly, hauling Eric with them. The bear fell forward, back onto all fours, but this time was half on the bridge and half on the road, straddling the gap.

“Oh, shit,” Tom said at the sight.

The bear growled at Hank, then the duck, but ultimately looked down into the hole where Matt was screaming in panic.

“Run, damn it,” Hank shouted. “Run to the lake!”

Hank and Dave just about threw Eric up to the deck before grabbing hold of the railing themselves.

The bear swatted an arm downward, holding its huge upper body upright with just one paw on the crumbing asphalt. The sound of the blow couldn’t be heard over the duck engine or the growling bear, but everyone felt as though they could hear the sickening whack of the great beast’s paw against Matt’s head, then his head striking a stone along the riverbank beneath. Everyone was thankful they couldn’t see the grisly scene. All they could see was an enormous bear swatting downward several times. With its next great stroke the crumbling asphalt gave way to the bear’s weight and it too fell into the hole.

“You’ve got to save him!” Tyler had been shouting at Hank. Hank turned his head when the bear fell in. Hank ignored Tyler, looking instead at Dave who had that same grim look of a man who knew suffering. Dave shook his head and slid down to the deck, suddenly exhausted by the experience.

“Someone help him!” Tyler shouted.

“Go on,” Hank told him, holding his hand out as if inviting Tyler to climb down and be the one to do it. Tyler stared at him in horror.

Peske put the duck in gear and started driving, saving them from anymore argument. Tom sank to the deck as well, his back to Penelope’s cage. He looked out over the back of the duck the same as everyone else, expecting Matt’s hand to rise out of the hole in some final, frenzied hope of escape. Tom expected the man to scream out, just as Bill had last night when the zombies fell on him. Neither happened. The duck drove into the forest, escaping the scene.

If they had guns, they could have scared off the bear, maybe even killed it.

“Zombies can die, you know,” Gary had told Tom just before they had come out on this trip. Tom had been packing a pistol into his survival kit when Gary laughed at him. “Just not with bullets,” he said. “Stuff a bazooka in there and then you’ve got a chance.” Tom hated his brother for it now.

Nineteen

They discovered why it was called the washouts not long after. A years-old landslide had come down from the hills, spilling through the forest and over the roads. Grass and small shrubs were growing again. Pine needles and dead leaves had made the ground their home for at least a few seasons. Still, most of the trees had been choked to death or toppled by the avalanche, making it difficult for the duck to maneuver. Several times they had to stop while the hunters used chainsaws to cut through fallen logs blocking their way. It was slow going, and everyone was on edge, watchful of everything around them. Tom wasn’t as worried. He watched Penelope, and she didn’t seem distressed by any of it. She just sat on her bunk bed with her pillow clutched in her arms and the blanket over her shoulder, staring blankly toward the sky.

Peske turned off the engine while the hunters cut up another fallen tree. He tapped Mike on the shoulder and nodded toward the half-breed.

“She needs a walk,” Peske told him. Mike rolled his eyes but followed Peske toward the back. Tom stood up to get out of their way.

“Why are you stopping?” Tyler asked. He looked like a cornered animal. Most of the visitors had the same frightened, wide-eyed look to them.

“I’ve got to let her out for a bit,” Peske said.

“What?” Tyler asked with disbelief. “What the hell for? She’ll tear us all to pieces. She’s one of them!”

“She ain’t gonna do anything of the sort,” Peske growled, taking a zombie catching pole from Mike. “Move over all of you. I need to get her out.”

“Why are you letting her out?” Tyler demanded.

“So she can piss, you moron,” Peske said. “She’s been in that cage since yesterday.”

“I need to pee too,” Carrie suddenly put in.

“Me too,” one of the men said.

“Fine,” Peske growled. “Climb on over the edge if you need to use the facilities. Find a tree everyone.”

“Is it safe?” one of Tyler’s yes-men asked, a man named Paul.

“Don’t wander far,” Peske replied.

Mike slid off the back of the duck and started helping visitors down. Peske put the noose-end of the zombie pole through a slot alongside the lock of the cage’s gate. He didn’t have to work to get her into it. She stood, walked up to it, and slipped the noose over her own head. Peske tugged it tight. It wasn’t the kind of noose used on other zombies. The noose had a sheepskin cover all around it to protect her neck.

“Come on, Kitty,” Peske purred, using a key from his pocket to unlock the door. Tom stood aside and waited for her to come out. She moved like a queen passing amongst subjects, slow and meaningful, poised, knowing that every eye was on her. As she ducked under the cage door she turned her head and looked at Tom. A brief smile flickered in her eyes and on the edges of her lips. Tom smiled and turned to climb down off the duck. If she had anything in mind, he wanted to be close to her.

“There, you see?” Peske was telling everyone. “Gentle as a kitten.”

At hearing this Penelope turned her head and snarled, biting in the air toward Tyler. He jumped back, almost falling off the side of the duck. She laughed at him. It was spectral. It didn’t come from her throat so much as her nose or the roof of her mouth. It was the mockery of a laugh, a parrot noise from someone who might not have had the capacity to understand humor whatsoever.

Mike’s pole held a second noose up for her and she ducked her head into it, waited a second for it to be secured, then she leapt off the back of the duck. Tom wanted to applaud he was so impressed by her. She landed softly and crouched down, almost pulling Peske down with her. He grumbled and climbed down after her.

“Find a tree,” Peske said to the others, prodding Penelope toward a nearby stand of trees. Tom followed them. Penske and Mike stood to either side of the half-breed as she went behind a tree. Tom grinned as he watched the two poles slide downward, thinking of Penelope squatting on the other side of the tree. He relieved himself onto the nearest tree, wondering if she thought the whole thing indignant or understood the invasion of privacy of it all. Tom finished. He stood listening to the chainsaws grinding, feeling the breeze come at them from the east for once. It brought the smell of chainsaw exhaust with the cool air of the lake, which was better than the still air they had been putting up with for the last hour.

The poles shot upward and Peske swore. Tom could see Penelope
tugging on her pants as she forced her way around the tree, hauling Mike with her. She was pointing furiously. Tom turned to look back toward the duck. The other visitors were scattered in the trees still doing their business.

“Get back to the duck,” Peske said hotly, following Penelope as she rushed ahead. Mike kept pace with her. Tom found himself hurrying to catch up. Penelope waited for Peske to climb up to receive his pole. “Go warn them,” Peske told Tom. “Tell them to get back to the duck. Everyone.”

Tom nodded and ran to the edge of the trail they had been following and called out with his hands to his mouth. He yelled the word zombies over and over again. Six of the men came running out from the trees, pulling up their pants. It was chaotic at the duck with everyone clambering aboard. Tom fought to hoist himself up onto the deck from the side while others pushed and shoved for the ladder in the back. Peske blew an air horn as he settled into his seat, the half-breed safely returned to her cage. Mike was stowing the zombie poles, looking out toward the tree line expectantly.

“Where are Carrie and Nate?” Tom asked, doing a quick headcount. They had gone off together down the trail the duck had created.

Hank, Dave, and Rick were climbing up, shoving the chainsaws onto the deck. Everyone was turning in circles, trying to count each other, realizing what Tom had already pointed out. The woman was missing. Hank didn’t bother to do a headcount. He pushed past everyone and reached Peske.

“What are you waiting for?” Hank asked. “Go!”

“You didn’t finish clearing it!” Peske was arguing.

“Just ram it. It’ll break,” Hank demanded as Tyler pushed up front beside them.

“Carrie and Nate are missing,” Tyler said. As if to put an exclamation point on it, they all heard a violent scream in the woods. Rick was reaching for a zombie pole before anyone could stop him. He used it to vault off the back and clear of the duck, sliding down its shaft to soften his landing.

“Damned idiot hero,” Hank grumbled. “Back it up,” Hank started telling Peske. “I’ll clear it out up front. Use your horn if anything is coming up behind me.” Hank grabbed his chainsaw and climbed overboard.

Rick found their tracks easily, listening for Carrie’s calls to guide him. He jogged into a thick stand of trees as Peske backed the duck down along the trail to get closer to the hunter. Tyler slid into the passenger seat and picked up the air horn at Peske’s orders. Tom held onto the cage and could hear Penelope’s low growl. Mike was loading the canister gun. The brakes squealed the duck to a stop alongside the line of trees. Everyone could see the scene within. Two zombie were huddled over Nate’s body, feeding on it as though nothing in the world could bother them. A third was being hauled backwards by the neck with Rick’s zombie pole. Carrie was on the ground, backing away across the ground slowly, blood staining her shirt and arm.

“Wait ‘till he’s out,” Peske told Mike, who was leveling the canister gun to fire.

Rick dragged the third zombie near Nate’s body and slammed it on its side, loosening the noose and freeing the beast. He prodded the zombie with the pole to push its face onto Nate’s body. Rick dodged around the beasts to Carrie’s side. With a swift move he ducked low, grabbed her good arm, hauled her to her feet, and slung her over his shoulder. Tom was impressed. He wished he could do something like that, but Rick was a big man.

“Hold your fire,” Peske told Mike as Rick managed to skirt the three zombies who were now feverishly tearing apart Nate’s body, gorging themselves on his warm blood and raw flesh. The noise of the chainsaw was still echoing ahead of them. Several men helped pull Carrie onto the back of the duck. Rick climbed aboard as well and Peske drove off, leaving the three zombies to their meal in peace. The air horn went off and Hank climbed aboard. Peske drove the duck through the long clearing the hunters had cut over the past hour, giving them the room to maneuver and keep driving without pause until they cleared the woods completely.

Hank stood over Carrie as two of the men tended to her wounds. She had a large piece of her arm torn and scratches all across her chest.

“Were you bit?” he asked her.

“No,” she said emphatically, shaking her head.

“Well, I’m going to start you on inhibitors,” Hank told her, squatting down over her. “You’re going to take them because you were bit.”

“I wasn’t bit,” she tried to tell him.

“I know a bite when I see one,” Hank said. He took a bottle of pills out of his cargo pants pocket and opened it, shaking a long purple pill out. He held the pill up so she could see it.

“I wasn’t bit,” she said angrily. “I wasn’t!”

Hank didn’t listen. He grabbed her cheeks, pinching hard against her teeth, forcing her mouth open even as she clutched at his arm and hit him in the wrist. He shoved the pill to the back of her throat. She gagged on it while flailing at his arm. He let her go and stood back, eying everyone. No one objected. No one wanted to be thrown off the duck.

She coughed furiously, trying to spit out the pill, but it was already down her throat. “I wasn’t bit,” she screamed, her eyes watering. “Oh, God, please!”

“Tie her up,” Hank said to
the others. He looked at Dave who was standing above her. Dave stared down at Carrie with the same grim expression. “Tend her wounds and tie her up.” Dave only nodded.

Penelope had been standing at the door of her cage, watching everything transpire intently. She sank back to her bunk bed, picking up her pillow to hold it like a doll. She fell asleep amidst the looks of concern, Carrie’s remorseful wailing, and the steady jostling of the duck. Tom figured she was on to something and laid down himself. He was so tired.