Rocky Mountain Die (8 page)

“Nope,” Stella says. “Go for it.”

“Batter up,” Stuart says.

Elsbeth grins and is about to swing away when a loud crash from below echoes through the bookstore. Then the moans begin and all of a sudden we’re forced to remember that Consortiums and Camilles and Kramers aren’t why we’re in the Hell we’re in.

It always comes back to the motherfucking Zs.

***

There is a simple truth in the zombie apocalypse: the disabled will die first.

It’s a shitty truth and not very PC, but let’s face it folks, if you can’t get up and run from the Zs that are ready to pick your skull clean of your tasty, tasty brains then you are fucked.

I am currently fucked. Thank God and the Giant Spaghetti Monster in the sky that I have friends and family willing to save my ass.

“They’re already everywhere,” Charlie whispers as we crouch by the railing and watch the Zs swarm inside the store. The front doors have completely collapsed and the undead bastards just keep on coming. “How do we get Dad downstairs? We step foot on the escalators and they’ll hear us and see us.”

A couple of Zs stop and look around, hunting for prey they know is inside.

“Shhh,” Stella says and pulls us all back from the railing.

I’m easy to pull. I’m in a wheelchair.

We move ass to the far corner of the Children’s Books section, well out of undead earshot, and huddle up again. Elsbeth is getting a lot of happiness from dragging Cassie by the feet to each spot we go. My son isn’t getting too much happiness with pushing my wheelchair. I am getting a distinct “leave the cripple’s ass behind” vibe.

“You’re talking out loud again, Dad,” Charlie says.

“Dammit!” I snap.

“Shhhh,” Stella warns. “We are trying to avoid bringing the Zs up to us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did my having my skull cracked open and Dr. Jailbait and Dr. Fucknuts McGee slicing and dicing on my brain for no fucking reason inconvenience you?” I growl. “Is it too much to ask for random brain surgery in a dentist’s office to actually work?”

“Yeah,” Stuart says. “It is.”

“You’re lucky to be breathing, Dad,” Charlie says. “You really should have died from that.”

I wave Stumpageddon about. “I should have died from a lot of things in this apocalypse, but I haven’t.” I wave Stumpageddon some more. “Hey, look. I can control Stumpy. Cool.”

“Talking, talking, talking,” Cassie says. “That’s all this guy ever does.”

“Talk, talk, talk is what you meant to say,” I respond. “Either that or you should have ended with ‘that’s all this guy is ever doing’.”

“Jace? Shut up, please,” Stella says. She looks to Elsbeth. “Any thoughts on how to get us out of here?”

“Us? Nope,” Elsbeth says. “Long Pork’s wheels are a problem.”

“But I make up for them with charm,” I say.

“I can help,” Cassie says. “I promise not to kill any of you.”

“Nice try,” Stuart says. “No way we’re untying you.”

“There’s an elevator by the restrooms,” Charlie says. “Maybe we can load up in there and manually lower it. Might be able to sneak out through the back once we get to the first floor.”

“You know how to manually lower an elevator?” I ask. “If you do then I’ll be very, very impressed.”

Seriously. I will. That would be a cool trick.

“Out loud?” I ask.

“What? No,” Stella says.

“Cool. Some thoughts are staying inside. Progress,” I say.

“Carly and I can clear a path,” Cassie says. “Set me free and I’ll get you outside.”

“Then where?” Stella says. “There’re more of them out there. We’re better off fixing the front doors and cleaning up in here.”

“The roof,” Stuart says. “We get up there and we’ll be safe.”

“We’ll be popsicles,” Charlie says.

“We take some books with us and build a fire,” Stuart says then realizes what he’s saying. “And signal to everyone where we are. Including the Consortium if they’ve gotten here already.”

“What about your sisters?” Stella asks. “Not Cassie, but the others? You said they were close?”

“Not the plan,” Elsbeth replies.

“Plans change, El,” Stella snaps. “Can you call them here to help?”

“Do you have like a special killer chick yodel or something?” I ask. “That would be so cool if you did.”

“No yodel,” Elsbeth says. “And no sisters. Not now. Not the plan.”

Several loud crashes echo down below followed by the distinct sounds of feet clomping on metal.

“They figured out that escalators are just stairs,” I say. “Stupid fucking Zs and their need to problem solve. Can’t they just shamble and bump into each other? Why do they have to always take the escalator less traveled by?”

“That makes no sense, Dad,” Charlie says.

“
Yo
u
make no sense,” I respond. “Zinger.”

“Oh, hell, just kill him or leave him!” Cassie says. “He’s the weak link! You’ll all survive if you ditch his ass!”

“We don’t leave Long Pork,” Elsbeth growls, getting right in her face. “Long Pork is family and we don’t leave family.”

“The sisters were your family once and you left us,” Cassie says.

“That was different,” Elsbeth replies. “And I found you now.”

“But you’ll leave me again, won’t you? Leave me to get eaten?” Cassie says.

Then she opens her mouth and lets out the loudest bloodcurdling scream I have ever heard in my life. I really wish my left arm, you know, the intact one, was working so I could clap my hand over my ear. Not that it would do any good since I have two ears.

Man, that was a waste of good thought power.

“Out loud again, Dad,” Charlie says. “And i
t
wa
s
a waste of good thought power.”

Elsbeth slams her fist into Cassie’s face and the woman shuts up. She lies there smiling, blood trickling from her split lips that form a shit-eating grin. Cat and the canary grin. Cheshire cat grin. Too many cat grins. Do cats grin? I bet there’s a book around here that will tell me.

The Z moans get considerably louder and are joined by the groaning of metal.

Stuart crawls off then comes scurrying back.

“They’re all trying to climb the escalators at once,” Stuart says. “Too much weight. They’ll bring them down.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” I say. “If they bring them down then we’re safe up here until they go away.”

Stuart starts to speak then shakes his head.

“There’s always something that reminds me why we keep you around,” Stuart says. “Stay here and watch her. The rest of you come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Stella asks.

“Gonna call the Zs up to us,” Stuart says. “Some will make it, but most will get jammed on the escalators. With any luck, they’ll collapse and we’ll have time to figure out our next moves.”

“Works for me,” Elsbeth says as she stands and sets the baseball bat in my lap. “Smack her if she tries anything.”

“Uh, I can’t raise my thumb, let alone a baseball bat, El,” I say.

“Don’t be a pussy, Long Pork,” Elsbeth sighs as she pulls her two blades from her pack and gives them a quick whirl. “Too many pussies in the world still. Don’t be one of them.”

Charlie pulls two pistols from his pack and hands one to Stuart and the other to Stella.

“Thanks,” Stuart says. “Any magazines?”

Charlie tosses him two.

“Mom?” Charlie asks.

“Um, yes, please,” Stella says, her eyes watching Charlie closely. “What will you use?”

Elsbeth hands Charlie one of her blades. “He’s been practicing,” she says.

“I thought you were showing him how to shoot?” I say.

“You run out of bullets,” Elsbeth says. “You never run out of blades.”

“And she has been showing me how to shoot,” Charlie says. “I’ll show you later when we —”

“Hush,” Elsbeth says. “You talk too much like your daddy.” She nods at Cassie. “Don’t know what will happen to her. Stay quiet.”

“Right,” Charlie frowns. “My bad.”

“Your bad,” Elsbeth says and starts to walk towards the escalators.

“I guess it’s time to go,” Stuart says and joins her.

Stella gives me a quick kiss and is gone with Charlie right behind.

“Watch her,” Charlie says before they are lost from my sight.

I turn and look down at Cassie. I’m suddenly not so sure about the plan. Yes, she is tied up tight, knots made by Elsbeth and Stuart, both people that know how to make knots, but damn if she isn’t scary as hell.

“I heard all of that,” she smiles.

Fuck.

We just hang, staring at each other as we wait for the start of the shit that is about to go down.

“So...where are you from originally?” I ask. “I know Elsbeth was from Connecticut or something. Are you a Yankee too?”

“Yankee?” Cassie laughs. “Really?”

“I’ve lived in the South a long time,” I say. “North of the Mason-Dixon line and you’re a Yankee.”

“I believe that technically New Englanders are Yankees,” Cassie says.

“Then why are the New York Yankees called the Yankees?” I respond. “Got ya there.”

“True enough,” Cassie nods. She watches me for a second. “Didn’t I tell you where I was from when we first met?”

“What? Back at the Biltmore in Asheville? No, you didn’t really tell me much of anything,” I say. “But, you know, Asheville was under siege and blowing up and shit. We were busy.”

I wait.

And wait.

“Gonna tell me? Or do I have to guess?” I ask.

Then the shit we’ve been waiting for starts. Or the sounds of the shit start. I can’t actually confirm any real shit happens because I can’t see it. It’s all second hand. Or second ear? Is that a thing?

“Watch your left!” Stuart shouts.

There’s a gunshot and the snarls of Zs get louder. Another gunshot followed by a few grunts and curses. I’m guessing it’s not the Zs doing the cursing. Unless they’ve evolved. Although would cursing constitute evolved?

I hear Elsbeth yell and then a loud crash followed by several more.

“Good one!” Charlie shouts.

“Nice team,” Cassie says.

“Quiet, you,” I reply. “Trying to listen to my stories.”

“How long do you think you can last, Jace?” Cassie asks.

“Duck!” Stella yells and then there are three consecutive gunshots. “Back! Back!”

“Jace?” Cassie asks, so casual. “How long do you think you will last? Really?”

“Are you hearing what I’m hearing?” I respond. “We are a good team. We’ll last.”

“But you aren’t part of the team, Jace,” Cassie says. “You’re stuck in a wheelchair. Your scalp is bleeding and you’ve lost motor control in your one intact arm.”

“I’ll get better,” I snap.

“Will you?” Cassie laughs. “How very optimistic of you, Jace Stanford. You know they can’t carry you everywhere. Eventually you’ll have to pull your own weight. When that time comes, do you think you’ll be ready?”

“I was born ready,” I say. It’s cheesy, but what else do you say when someone asks if you’re ready?

“But will you die ready?” she asks. “Or will you die because you weren’t ready? If you ask me—”

“Which I didn’t,” I growl.

“If you ask me,” Cassie continues, “there will come a time in the next couple of days where your team, your family, will have to decide whether you live and they die or they live and you die. Do you really want to force that decision on them?”

“I’d like to force a gag in your mouth,” I say.

“Hold the top!” Stuart yells. “Hold it!”

More gunshots, more yelling, more Z moans and snarls and grunts. Something snaps and gives way, but I don’t hear the big crash.

“Hey! You fucking dead pieces of shit!” Charlie yells. “This way! Flesh buffet on the second floor! All you can motherfucking eat!”

Ah, that’s my boy. Barker to the undead.

“Let me go and I’ll make sure you live, Jace,” Cassie says.

I laugh. I laugh hard. Then I hurt. I hurt hard.

“No, I swear,” Cassie responds to my many guffaws. “I’ll make sure you have a sister protecting you at all times.”

“I already have one of those,” I smile. “El’s got my back.”

“Does she?” Cassie chuckles. “Where is she now? She left you with a killer and is off protecting your son, not you. I think she’s already eyeing the next generation of Stanfords because she knows you’re dead weight.”

“She’s saved my ass plenty of times,” I say. “She’s not going to just give up on me now.”

“That’s right, she’s saved your life,” Cassie says.
“
You
r
life. Have you saved her life?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “Probably. Maybe.” Have I?