Rocky Mountain Die (23 page)

“Yes, we know,” Amy says. “We used to have more secured, but…”

“She let everyone die,” I say. “It’s sad. It’s tragic. Boo hoo. But now we’re here to save her and her people. Yay! Go us!”

“That was out loud, Daddy,” Greta says.

“I know,” I smile.

“You’re an ass,” Amy says and looks at everyone else. “He’s an ass.”

“He’s also my husband,” Stella snaps. “Which means I’m the only one that can call him an ass.”

“Thanks, babe,” I say.

“Shut up,” Stella says. “Pay attention. The choppers are heading back to drop the chum on the army. Whatever is left of it. Once they are done with that then they are bringing everyone else back up here. We need to have a plan in place. We need to have an idea of how we’ll hold off the Consortium.”

She’s looking at me.

“Why are you looking at me?” I ask. “My brain is pudding.”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking about that,” Melissa says. “Elsbeth has an idea on how to unpudding your brain.”

“Unpudding my brain? Is that a thing?” I ask.

“It involves Kramer,” Stella growls. “I said no at first, but El is right. It could work.”

“Huh?” I frown. “Not following. Pudding brain is pudding.”

“They want Kramer to use his hypnosis shit to focus your mind on how to beat the Consortium,” Greta says. “They want to get inside your pudding and fish out the tasty parts.”

Amy shakes her head. “I’ve always hated pudding. I hate it more now.”

“You want me to allow Kramer to willingly mess with what’s left of my mind? Are you fucking crazy?” I snap.

“No choice,” Stella frowns. “We’ve done the math. They will get enough fighters up here to do some major damage. Especially since this place isn’t even close to locked down like how we thought it would be.”

Fuck this shit.

They all stare at me, waiting.

“Oh, sorry,” I say. “I thought that was going to be out loud.” I clear my throat. “Fuck. This. Shit. Not happening.”

***

“Ah, Mr. Stanford,” Dr. Kramer says, grinning as I’m wheeled up to his cell. “How are you, Jace? It is good to still see you alive.”

“Is it?” I ask.

“And speaking!” Dr. Kramer laughs and claps his hands together. “I was wondering if your speech centers would return to normal.”

“I still talk out loud, so not so much,” I respond. “You’re a shitty brain surgeon.”

“I’m an excellent brain surgeon,” Dr. Kramer says. “Amongst many other medical specialties. Unfortunately, the facilities I was forced to use with Dr. Stenkler, who is also quite accomplished, were, well, less than adequate. But, I believe you already know that.”

“I don’t know shit anymore,” I say. “Which is why I’m here. I need you to dig out what shit I do still know.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t quite follow,” Dr. Kramer replies.

“I need you to use that conditioning crap and force me to be at my best again,” I say. “Or better. Yeah, we actually need you to make me better than I was. Get all the synapses firing at once, so to speak.”

“I’m at a loss for what you mean,” Dr. Kramer says.

“Knock it off,” Stella snarls. “You know what he means and you’ll do what we need.”

“You trust me fiddling abut in your husband’s mind?” Dr. Kramer asks. “Without your protector here? Where is Ms. Thornberg? Or any of the others, for that matter?”

“We can handle you,” Melissa says. “You screw this up and you’ll never leave that cell alive.”

“Hey!” someone shouts from another cell. “Hello?”

We look at Amy and she gives us a questioning glance.

“That’s Nick,” she says. “Can I go speak with him?”

“Sure,” Stella says. “Greta? Go with.”

“Do I have to?” she whines.

“Yes,” Stella snaps.

Greta stomps off behind Amy. Stenkler takes her place by us and Kramer’s face lights up.

“Oh, hello, James! Nice to see a colleague’s face,” Dr. Kramer says. “Please explain to Mr. Stanford that what he is asking will put him at great risk.”

“I have,” Stenkler replies. “I have explained it to all of them. Unfortunately, we do not have much of a choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Dr. Kramer says.

“Not for you, asshole,” Stella nearly roars. “Do what we ask! Do it without harming my husband! And do it now!”

“Well, since you are being so polite about it,” Dr. Kramer says and smiles at me. “Jace? I’ll need you to relax.”

“No problem,” I say. “Nothing more relaxing than hanging out in an old jail during the zombie apocalypse while an army comes stomping towards us.”

“Can you try?” Dr. Kramer says.

“Jace, please,” Stella says quietly as she bends close to me. “We don’t have much time.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “Gonna relax. I’m all about the relaxing. Relaxation is my game. I am the captain of the good ship Relaxarooni.”

“He will need a chair… Oh, I see he has one,” Dr. Kramer grins.

“Fuck and you, sir,” I glare. “Fuck and you.”

“Close your eyes, please,” Dr. Kramer says. I do. “Now, think back on that day when we were on our way to Knoxville. The second day, not the first. You were angry at me—”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” I say.

“You were angry at me and wanted Elsbeth to take me out into the woods and gut me like a stuck pig,” Dr. Kramer continues. “Which is a bit of a mixed metaphor since the actual term is bleeding like a stuck pig.”

“Yeah, I remember that day,” I reply. “You made a point of telling me how wrong my metaphor was. Good thing Elsbeth didn’t listen.”

“When I count to three, you’ll be back to that day,” Dr. Kramer says. “You’ll remember the conditioning I implanted in you. That will allow you to access all parts of your mind. Are you ready?”

“Ready? I thought we’d already started,” I say.

“Oh, Mr. Stanford, we haven’t even begun to get started,” Dr. Kramer chuckles. “Now. One. Two. Three. Blowfish carton toes.”

***

I’m sitting up in the weird trailer we set in the huge haul truck. That giant earth mover thing that Critter stole from Foster’s crew after we killed Mondello. I’m sitting in the trailer and there’s Stuart and Elsbeth and someone else. The Tin Man? Scarecrow? Oh, I missed the Scarecrow the most.

“Hey, Jace,” Jon Billings says, smiling that cocky, smart-ass smile of his. “Did you miss me?”

Jon was my closest friend back in Whispering Pines. I know I call Stuart my best friend, but that is after the fact. After Jon was shot in the head by that crazy fucker Vance. Jon was Head of Construction in our little apocalyptic oasis. I designed shit and he made sure it got built and wouldn’t fall over and kill people that were trying not to get killed by shit I designed falling over. Or something like that. We enjoyed witty banter, so I’d say confusing shit like that all the time.

“Jon?” I ask. “What the hell, man? You’re dead.”

“That I am, buddy,” he smiles. “I am very dead. But not undead. Isn’t that a nice treat? Being an ex-minister, I have a deep belief in God. But if I’d come back as one of the Zs, I don’t know. It would have been hard to believe in God when I wanted to snack on Melissa’s flesh.”

“Keep your sex life out of this, perv,” I laugh. “I do not need to hear your undead fantasies.”

“How is she?” Jon asks. “How’s my wife? Is she still alive?”

“You know she is,” I say and tap my head. “You’re in here.”

“Am I?” Jon asks. “I hope not. That is one messed up place to be right now.”

“Yeah, I know,” I nod. “That’s why doctor…uh…that’s why Dr. What’s His Name is fiddling about in my noggin. Shit! What is his name?”

“I have no idea who you are talking about,” Jon says as she stands up and walks to a table. “But we have work to do, pal o’ mine. Get your ass over here.”

I glance at Stuart and Elsbeth, but they are mute, just sitting on a bench watching me.

“Nothing to add?” I ask.

Stuart turns to Elsbeth and puts a finger to his lips. She parrots the motion and they both shhhhhh.

“Whatever,” I shrug. Then realize that I have both arms. “Holy shit! Where is Stumpageddon?”

“Who?” Jon asks as he keeps waving me to the table. “Stumpawhaton?”

“Stumpageddon,” I say, feeling my right arm. “I lost this arm, dude. Hacked it off myself with a fucking knife in an SUV up on the Parkway.”

Jon stares at me for a second then shakes his head. “Man, you are one messed-up puppy. But it doesn’t matter. Take a look at this.”

I get to him and lean over the table. He’s studying a map of Boulder. It’s a freaky map. Like out of a Harry Potter movie. The buildings seem to jut up from the paper, but are flat at the same time. Makes me a bit dizzy. I grab the edge of the table and Jon grabs me.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Are those people and Zs?” I ask as I watch shit move on the map. “Jesus.”

“Hallelujah,” Jon smirks. “Amen and pass the ammunition.”

“Okay, okay, what am I looking at?” I ask.

Jon points at the map, his finger tracing a road just southish of the University of Colorado campus.

“This is Baseline Road,” he says. “Fitting, in a way. This road will be very important. You can’t let Camille get past this road.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because the entrance to the Stronghold is past this road. It’s hidden, but if she has the right intel then she can find it,” he replies. “Hold this road.”

I point at the hospital. “We have a lot of people up here. That’s a ton of open space between there and here.”

“There’s a ton of open space everywhere,” Jon says. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll be able to move old vehicles all along these routes and block off the arteries in and out of the gauntlet.”

“Gauntlet? Fuck. Are you kidding me? Like Cannibal Road?” I complain. “Fuck Cannibal Road.”

“Exactly like Cannibal Road,” Jon says. “And you can’t fuck a road, dude. Don’t even try. You’ll get asphalt all up in your peehole.”

“Peehole,” Elsbeth snickers.

“Oh, now you talk?” I say as I look over at her. But she’s gone. “Whoa.”

“Yeah, your head is ten kinds of shitfucked, sir,” Jon says. “Now pay attention.”

“Attention is being paid,” I say.

“You create this gauntlet up through the suburbs of Boulder,” Jon says. “Shouldn’t be hard. You know how to work the suburbs into being your bitch.”

“I’m all about working the suburbs in the zombie apocalypse,” I grin. “I’m the Z-Burbia king!”

He shakes his head. “Don’t get cocky. When you wake up from this, things will not be how you expect. You are going to freak out.”

“What do you mean I’m going to freak out?” I ask. I look over my shoulder and Stuart’s gone too. “Where the fuck is everyone going?”

“Pay attention, Long Pork!” Jon yells.

I turn and stare at him. “You were gone and then dead when Elsbeth joined us. How do you know she called me Long Pork?”

“You have always been Long Pork, Mr. Torrance,” Jon giggles. “You have always been the King of Z-Burbia.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I say and look at the map. Every detail of the area rushes at me, slamming into my eyes, making me cry out. “Holy fuck!”

“It’s already begun, brother,” Jon says. “You’re doing it. You’re making it happen.”

“Huh?” I respond. “Making what happen?”

He stands straight and grabs me by the shoulders. His eyes are bloodshot and his skin is turning pale then grey. “Stay strong. Do not let all of this be a waste, okay? I didn’t die so you could bring my wife to some strange city and let her get butchered by the Consortium or get eaten by Zs, you got it? I am fucking counting on you!”

“I always thought it was hilarious that you cursed,” I say. “An ex-minister with a potty mouth.”

“They’re just words, Jace,” Jon says as strips of his face start to peel and fall off. “Just words. They don’t have power over you anymore. Do you hear me? Time to wake up and finish this. The words no longer have power.”

He taps me right in the middle of my chest.

“Follow your heart,” he growls. “Follow it wherever it leads you.”

“My heart is actually a little to the side,” I say. “It’s not right in the center.”

“Fuck you,” he smiles and half his teeth tumble out.

“Gross,” I say and then grab him in a big bear hug. His body squishes against me and some foul-smelling gasses escape his rotting corpse. “Dude, you farted.”

“Goodbye, Jace,” he whispers in my ear. “It was a pleasure knowing you. Take care of my Melissa.”

“I will,” I say and he’s gone.

Not gone as in he blinks out of existence. Nope, that wouldn’t quite fit the narrative, would it? He’s gone in like he melts away, his body liquefying into a puddle of Jon juice and pulp. Yuck would be a good word to describe it.

But I’m supposed to forget about the words. That’s what he said. He said the words no longer have power over me.