Rocky Mountain Die (20 page)

“No more time to hesitate. One, two, three.”

“AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

“Keep lifting! Turn him carefully! Hold on, hold on! Let me get down there! Okay, hand him over!”

“You got him?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

“What the fuck? Shut him up or he’ll bring every Z down on us in this whole state! Jesus H. Christ!”

“Move, Critter!”

“Shut him the hell up!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

“We’d love to, but he’s completely out of it and won’t shut up!”

“I’ll knock him out! I swear I’ll do it!”

“Do not hit that man!”

“Oh, to hell with you, doc! You’re the new guy ‘round here, remember? You ain’t in no position to give orders!”

“I’m his doctor and he is my patient! Do not try to knock him out! If he’s screaming then that is a good thing. It means he’s alive and his mind is functioning enough to react to pain.”

“JACEY IS REACTING! AAAAAHHH!!!”

“Not even a little smack?”

“Critter! Don’t you dare!”

“Ah, come on, Laura. We can’t be expected to listen to this the whole damn way!”

“Don’t you Laura me, Critter. Call me Dr. McCormick if you intend on doing anyone in this group harm.”

“I wasn’t gonna harm him. Shit. You people need to lighten up.”

“WE ARE LEAVING NOW! EVERYONE CLIMB ONTO A VEHICLE! WE WILL LEAVE STRAGGLERS BEHIND! MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASSES, PEOPLE!”

“Damn, that woman has a voice on her.”

“She’s used to giving orders. Now get out of the way, Critter, so I can do my job.”

“Fine, fine, whatever, doc. But I’m watching you, new guy. No more lip from your ass or you’ll get a fist to your jaw.”

“NO MORE JAW ASS FACE FISTS! AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Go! Go! Keep moving!”

“Hold that wrench! Do NOT let it come loose!”

“We’re holding it, Stenkler! We’re the ones that got Long Pork out of the RV!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“They’re here! COME ON!”

“Oh, my God… Look at them all…”

“We are ten kinds of fucked.”

“This way!”

“Who is that?”

“Shit, it’s Flips!”

“Lourdes! This way! Follow this road! We’ll close it off behind you!”

“YOU HEARD THE MAN! MOVE!”

“Jacey no feel so good. Jacey sleepy sleep again.”

“No, Jace. Stay awake. Stay with us. Do you hear me? Jace?”

“Really tired. Jacey so, so tired. So— AAAAHHHH!!!”

“Don’t do that!”

“Woke his ass back up, didn’t it?”

“You could be doing more damage!”

“Really? Look at the guy. Do you think anything can do more damage than has already been done?”

“Lacy? Back off. Listen to the doctor.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“I know. But you can help by getting up in that Humvee and grabbing him as we lift him up.”

“Wait, where are you putting him?”

“On the roof. Safest place.”

“We’ll hold him steady, Stella. Don’t worry. You get your daughter. Watch her. Marcie has your son well protected and we’ve got Jace. The sisters have the Stanfords’ back, okay?”

“Okay…”

“WE ARE MOVING OUT!”

“Shit! Help me lift! Come on!”

“Got him! Get up here!”

“Jacey don’t like the Ferris wheel. Makes Jacey pukey.”

“Fuck! It splashed all over my boots!”

“Hang them over the side. Don’t get any on us.”

“Screw you.”

“Later, baby.”

“Uh...aren’t you all sisters?”

“Not real sisters, Stenkler. So knock it off with the pinched face.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Jacey hears lesbos.”

“Oh, I get to whack him now, right? He just called us lesbos!”

“NO! NO WHACKING!”

***

You ever eat sandpaper? I did when I was like three. I have no idea why I did it. It wasn’t like it was fresh. It was a scraggly old used hunk of sandpaper lying on the garage floor, all worn and torn and stinking of pine.

Maybe that was why, because it was pine-scented fresh? Who the fuck knows?

Anyway, I was three, I picked up this chunk of nasty and popped it in my mouth. Well, I stuffed it in my mouth. I was three, so the sandpaper was bigger than my mouth. I remember chewing and chewing and chewing, waiting for it to taste good. It never tasted good.

I was going to spit it out, this is why the memory has lasted all these years, but my dad came into the garage, saw me chewing, and instantly yelled, “What the fuck is in your mouth?”

So, being three, and scared shitless my dad was going to miss his ratty piece of sandpaper, I swallowed. I swallowed hard and that shit went right down my throat.

So, I guess, the real question is: have you ever swallowed sandpaper?

It fucking sucks.

Why do I ask? Because that is exactly how my throat feels right now. Like I swallowed a hunk of sandpaper and no one will give me a sip of Kool-Aid to wash it down with.

“Mom? He’s moving,” I hear Charlie say, his voice exhausted and weak.

“What? Huh? Go get your sister,” Stella replies.

“I’ll do it,” I hear a woman say. Marcie? Probably. “You stay here with your dad.”

Footsteps and then silence.

Well, not really silence. I can hear a ton of people talking. Hard to make out what they are saying. Their voices are all muffled, but I know it’s a lot.

“Stella?” I croak as I try to open my eyes. They do not want to open. Cool with me.

“Shhhh, quiet,” Stella replies.

“Water,” I struggle to say.

“I have some here,” Greta says as she gets close.

I hear a zipping sound. I know that zipping sound. Then a rustle of nylon.

I’m in a tent. It’s a cozy, warm tent, but that’s probably because I’m wrapped in a million sleeping bags. I can smell them and feel their weight on me. I used to camp a lot in the cold weather growing up, I know what a sleeping bag bundle feels like.

A bottle is put to my lips and I sip slowly at the sweet, sweet water. It’s a little hard not to choke since I’m lying down and no one will help me lift my head.

Hey! I’m lying down! I get to lie down to sleep! Nice. And they are probably not lifting my head because Stenkler told them not to.

“You okay? That enough?” Stella asks. “Did you get enough water, baby?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. I cough hard, regret it instantly as my ribs catch fire and burn like a billion suns. “Ow.”

“What’s the ow for?” Marcie asks. “I’m supposed to report to Stenkler when you wake up.”

“Ribs,” I say. “Did something happen to my ribs?”

“You caught an eight inch socket wrench between your third and fourth rib,” Greta says. “Luckily it got stuck there. If it had gone in another half inch, you’d be one dead Daddy.”

“Lucky me,” I mumble. “Such a lucky guy.”

“Fuck you, Jason Stanford,” Stella cries. “You are a lucky guy. There are a lot of dead people back on that street that aren’t so lucky!”

“Right. Sorry,” I reply, licking my chapped lips. “How many did we lose?”

“Half,” Charlie says. “Most of them were Lourdes’s people as they tried to hold off the Zs. We lost Toad and Porky too.”

“What? The Fitzpatricks?” I ask. I try again to open my eyes, but that just ain’t happening. “Oh, fuck. How’s Melissa? How’re Buzz and Pup and Gunga?”

“They aren’t doing so well,” Stella says. “Critter’s holding it together, but even he’s about to lose his shit.”

“We all are,” Greta says. “This is bad, Daddy. Real bad.”

“He’s awake?” Stenkler asks as the tent unzips. “Jace? How are you doing?”

“I’m awesome,” I say. “But my eyes won’t open.”

“Give it a few minutes,” Stenkler replies. “You suffered some major trauma, so you are going to be light sensitive until you adjust. Take some deep breaths and try to open them every few minutes. They’ll obey eventually.”

“Not sure I want them to,” I say. “Sounds like I’m only going to see sad faces.”

“Well, yes, there are a few of those,” Stenkler replies and clears his throat. “Uh, Greta? Can I see you outside for a minute?”

I growl. Stella lightly smacks my shoulder as I feel Greta shift and leave. The zipper goes back up instantly, stopping the cold breeze from coming in.

“Stop,” she whispers. “Greta is top nurse now. She’s needed out there.”

“How did we get away?” I ask. “I sort of remember some things, but mostly I remember screaming.”

“That was you,” Charlie says.

“Chuck? You in there?” Antoinette asks. “We need you and Marcie now, please.”

“Gotta go, Dad,” Charlie says. His hand squeezes my arm. “Rest up. I’ll be back later.”

More zipping, more leaving.

“What is going on?” I ask. “Give me all the facts. Don’t leave anything out.”

She tells me. It’s not good. We’re down to maybe, what, forty survivors? That includes the cannies. Forty, if that. Fuck.

Stuart is still with us, so are John and Reaper. That’s good. Not that I don’t mourn the loss of folks that used to be my neighbors at one time, or any of the lives gone, but Stuart, John, and Reaper have skills that can help the rest of us survive.

We talk for a while and Stella tells me how the Zs were just too much to handle. Especially with the crazies coming at us from both sides with random, surprise attacks. Buzz lost control of our RV as a hundred Zs rushed us at once. They just slammed into the cage and it sent the RV into a spin. The chain link got caught up under the wheels and the next thing everyone knew, we were flipping over.

The other RVs and Humvees didn’t fare so well, either. Sounds like we have one RV left and two Humvees.

“Where are we?” I ask.

Stella chuckles. That’s good. I like hearing that. Good to know she still can.

“That you are going to have to see for yourself,” Stella says.

“Seriously? Come on. Give me a hint,” I say.

“No, you rest,” she says and snuggles down next to me. “We’ll both rest. When you wake up, and if you can open your eyes, then you’ll see exactly where we are.”

“Are we safe?” I ask.

She hesitates. I know my wife well enough to know it’s not out of fear, but out of caution. Safe is a very broad term.

“For now,” Stella says. “The Zs can’t get us and Mr. Flips has the crazies under control.”

“What’s the for now part?” I ask. “We aren’t at the Stronghold, are we?”

“No, not even close,” Stella says. “We’re still in Denver. Very much still in Denver.”

“No hint? Really?” I ask.

“No hint. Just rest,” she replies. Her lips kiss my cheek and I smile.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll rest.”

“Good,” she says and I can tell by her breathing that she’s already drifting off.

I join her in seconds.

***

It’s night when I wake up. This makes it much easier to open my eyes. I blink a few times and glance around the tent. There’s enough light coming from fires outside that I can see the sleeping forms of three other people besides Stella and me.

I slowly stretch my arm, which is painfully asleep and wedged next to Stella. This wakes her up instantly, which isn’t my intention, but it does allow me to ask, “Who’s that?”

Stella glances over at the three sleeping bag lumps on the other side of the tent. She smiles.

“That is our daughter, our son, and our new bodyguard,” Stella says. “She might also be a new addition to the family the way she and Charlie stay by each other’s sides.”

“Marcie,” I say.

“Marcie,” Stella acknowledges.

“What?” Marcie asks and sits up. She lets the sleeping bag fall away and I am thankful she is fully clothed. “Hey. How do you feel?”

“A fuck ton better,” I say. “Still have a crazy bad headache though.”

“Yeah, that won’t be going away anytime soon,” she says and wiggles out of her sleeping bag to stand up. She glances down at Charlie and grins. “He hasn’t slept this deep in a while.”

“Really? You’d know that because why?” I ask.

“Jace,” Stella says, shaking her head. “We are way past that point.”

“Come on,” Marcie says and reaches for me as Stella gets up as well. “Time to go have a talk with the bosses.”

“Bosses?” I ask. “Multiple?”

“We’re all in this,” Stella says. “The one person in charge thing isn’t going to work anymore. Not with what we have coming at us.”

“Goody,” I say. “Take me to the bosses.”