Scavengers (29 page)

The sound of rain was interrupted by splashes outside the front door of the barn. Whispers of terror were exchanged between the barn’s inhabitants. Those closest to the doors scampered away, into the shadows, behind bales of hay. Everyone receded en masse to the farthest points of the building.

The big double doors were flung open. Falling rain pelted the dirt, causing swollen rivers to course over the barn floor. Puddles formed. Lightning flashed outside, and a deep baritone rumble of thunder rolled across the sky.

Then the zombies rushed in and the barn erupted into chaos. People screamed.  Bodies scrambled. They scrabbled and fought with whatever makeshift weapons they could find; they weren’t much.

Hungry infected attacked two people unlucky enough to be nearest the doors, biting deep into one man’s neck and coming away with a mouthful of bloody flesh. The second infected caught the teenager Lauren by her hair and yanked her to the floor. She screamed until her skull hit the ground with a dull-sounding
thump
.

Dejah leapt from behind a bale of hay, diving for Lauren.

David grasped at her arm, but missed. “Dejah!” he shouted, but in the mass confusion, his voice was drowned out amidst screams and cries of horror.

One of the talkers stood near the door, a fetid example of what the infection could do at its worst, with exposed glistening muscle and bone. This monster was severely infected; one of the worst David had seen that was still living. The gangrene and pure rot of what little flesh it had left exuded a putrid wafting stench.  He brandished a baseball bat.

“No, Dejah!” David snatched at her leg, this time connecting with fabric. He yanked with all of his strength, heaving backward, trying to keep her from going forward.

Dejah fell as the feral creature grasping Lauren by the hair wrestled the girl to the ground, pinned her beneath its pus-laden sore-infested body and took a bite from her face. The girl’s skin was stripped away like a length of rubbery latex from her left cheek. The gristle of her nose popped and came loose in the infected monster’s jaws. Blood dripped from its blackened chin, and it seemed to grin at the pleasure of the kill. Lauren’s red blood was bright in contrast to the dark decay of the hideous zombie’s own skin.

Jagged talons, dirty and broken, raked the soft flesh of her face, and with a deep gouging movement, one eye came loose from Lauren’s left socket. Lauren tried to scream against the filthy hand muffling her mouth, but the beast pried open her jaws, disregarding her attempts to bite the nasty fingers, and grabbed hold of her tongue.

Dejah kept screaming, “Lauren!” as the infected monstrosity pulled Lauren’s tongue out as far as it would go, and then gnawed it from the poor girl’s mouth. Crimson blood spurted over the teenager’s pale skin and splattered the infected patient’s face and upper body in a ghastly fountain.

Dejah screamed the girl’s name, fighting against David’s grip as Bal Shem’s infected henchmen pulled that day’s choices through the door. The talker stayed behind, waving the bat and glaring with shriveled eyes. It coughed a congealed wad of black blood from diseased lungs and spit the noxious clump onto the straw-covered ground. With a final glance around the barn, the door closed.

Everyone huddled in the back corner. Some were crying, trembling in a panicked state of fear. Some were cursing, angry, but still not willing to do much more than hide and pray.

“Oh my god” Dejah exhaled loudly, her heart racing, body shaking. “Oh my god, David, that poor girl. Poor Lauren!”

“I know.” He pulled her close, wrapping his arms tight around her as if to shut out the sheer insanity of what just happened. “I know. There’s nothing we can do for her now.”

Dejah wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t come. She felt numb. She could see Thomas cowering in a far corner around a group of equally frightened people. For a moment their eyes met. The look on his face was classic Thomas: an I-told-you-so type of expression, as if he was reiterating the fact that there was nothing any of them could do except wait for death one agonizingly slow day at a time.

Dr. Robbins stood beside them.  He reached out a hand and helped them stand. “We need a plan,” he said.  The doctor’s face was a work of statuesque determination.  Everything about the way he stood, jaws clenched, watery eyes fierce with a general’s cunning, said he was done sitting here and he was ready to move.

David nodded in agreement, but looked doubtfully at the others around them. “A plan will be useless without enough participants. These people are terrified, driven nuts, or both. I don’t have much hope for any blatant action we take being very successful.”

“Perhaps not,” said Robbins, “but we can move on a smaller scale, perhaps at nightfall—”

Thomas rushed toward them. “Don’t listen to him. He hasn’t been here. He doesn’t know what they’re capable of. Did you see what just happened?  Are you still not convinced? They’re monsters!”

Robbins blinked at Thomas with little other than bemusement.

“We saw it, Thomas,” Dejah snapped at him. “We get it. But Dr. Robbins has a point. We need a plan. A real plan.  Not just waiting till tomorrow and hiding next time they fling open that door and come for food.  We need a plan — not just to save Selah, but to save all of us.”

“I have a daughter, too,” Dr. Robbins said.  His voice was remarkably even considering all that had happened. Deep, aged. “If that were my girl in there, I’d do whatever it damn well took to get her out.  It’s your kid, man, isn’t that enough?”

Thomas stepped back, away from them. “You don’t get it.” His eyes switched between the three of them. “You understand you’d be walking to your deaths.  I don’t do anybody any good dead.”

“Well, here’s what I understand,” Robbins stepped forward and seemed to restrain himself a bit.  “
Your
daughter is in there with Bal Shem.
My
daughter is God only knows where. I don’t know. I can only hope and pray she’s alive.
You
, on the other hand, you
know
where your daughter is. What
I
want to know is: do you have the balls to go in there and get her? You’re her
father
. It’s
your
job
to protect her. You don’t do anyone any good dead; you also don’t do them any good in here sitting on your ass.”

“I’ll go,” David spoke up. “I don’t care what we have to do. I’ll help. I don’t know Selah, but she’s Dejah’s child. That’s enough for me.” David leveled an iron-cool gaze at Thomas.

“You just don’t know—” Thomas started again.

“Save it, Thomas.” Dejah spat the words. “Just…go.”

And he did. Thomas slunk into the corner, melding with the people clustered there, avoiding their stares.

Left alone, the trio stood together. Private Brooks stepped up to join them, nodding at the doctor.

David held Dejah at arm’s length, looking into her eyes. “You have to concentrate on Selah. You need a level head. Channel your anger into being productive. Deal with…all of this…later.”

Robbins was nodding. “I agree. It’s hard not to want to kill him, but we’ve got to be focused.”

David lifted an eyebrow and gave the doc a bemused half-smile.

“Well, if I was married to him, I’d want to kill him right now, too,” Robbins said. “But, it seems there’s enough bloodshed and death around us without me or you adding to the carnage.”

Dejah sighed loudly. “I don’t even care enough about him to want to kill him anymore. You’re right, Dr. Robbins, about him, me, and about the fact that we need a plan. This is bigger than me and my child. This is about all of us.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Maybe we should try talking to everyone here,” Private Brooks offered. “Some sort of pow wow. Either we give it our best shot, or we just sit around waiting for these bastards to eat us. And then eat us again.”

Robbins absently reached for a breast pocket, but finding no cigarettes there, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair instead.

David scanned the people in the nearby group, settling on an older man. He looked like an old farmer, grease smudged overalls, long sleeves of a red and black plaid shirt, a CAT cap with an old sweat ring perched on his head. “How long is it until the infected guards bring back the people they dragged away?”

“Don’t know,” the farmer said. “Varies. I think it depends on how fast they eat them and how fast that kid he’s got in there heals them. Occasionally, a few don’t come back at all.”

David looked at Robbins, and then at Dejah.

The old man sunk his hands deep into the pockets of his worn overalls. “Any they deem trouble-makers, seldom get sent back here, it seems. Don’t know if they kill’em or just keep’em somewhere else. If they do come back, they’re never the same. Spirit is gone from them. Broken. Same thing for anyone who’s been eaten and then brought back, it’s like once they get fixed up, something ain’t quite right about them ever again.”

Dejah felt the breath catch in her throat.
What had Bal Shem done to Selah
?

“Once they figure out y’all got some sort of plan, none of y’all are coming back here.” The man pointed a knobby finger at the three of them. “You’ll be lucky if they kill you and not just eat you and keep bringing you back over and over. That’s fer damn sure.”

“I just think there’s another way,” David said, exasperated.

“No, it has to be me,” Dejah said. “Evelyn hasn’t come back. That means either Bal Shem let her go or she’s still up there being eaten. Or they killed her. We all know she told him what she knew about me. It’s only a matter of time until he comes for me…at least to verify her story anyway. At least this way
we
have the advantage and we can be prepared to act.”

Dejah sat cross-legged in the circle of people, David at her right. Dr. Robbins and others willing to fight for their freedom sat side by side around the gathering. In all, they’d managed to pool about a dozen people from the motley crew in the barn, including a college-aged young man, the other solider named Abbott who’d been in their original group, a girl in her late twenties, named Torri, and a few others. Even Thomas had come around.  Dejah wished he hadn’t.  She wasn’t willing to let him redeem himself in her eyes.  She knew it was selfish and stupid.  Even in the midst of their last stand, she was thinking of a future with David. The bigger asshole Thomas made of himself, the easier it would be for her to …
to what?

To move on.

Thomas was shaking his head at Dejah. “It shouldn’t be you.”

“Who should it be, Thomas? Are you volunteering?” Dejah asked.

Thomas set his jaw.  His nostrils flared.  It was a look she’d seen a million times. It was
that look
. In the past, it had been followed by his leaving for the night.  Now, he sat before them, stewing in rage and disgust, a selfish desire to save his own skin the only keeping him from verbally lashing her.

Private Brooks had been quiet throughout the discussion, but now spoke.

“Here’s my idea: Dejah asks the guards to take her to Bal Shem. If we’re right, he’s already heard of her from Evelyn and he’ll be curious at least. While this is going on, someone causes a distraction.  Now, there are three loose planks of wood at the back of the barn. We jimmy those off, and while Torri here is causing our distraction, David and Dr. Robbins slip through the loose boards and make a run for the old barn behind Bal Shem’s clinic trailer.” He reached into his front pocket, removing a silver whistle on a chain. “Dejah, you should keep this whistle. It’ll be up to you to somehow keep Bal Shem occupied for the break-in. The main thing is that he doesn’t have a chance to look outside and recognize what’s going to happen, and he’ll be distracted when David and Robbins come in the back. When it seems like the best time for them to come in — whatever’s going on — blow the whistle. That will be the cue for David and Robbins to break into the trailer, and for the rest of us to launch our distraction.”

“Must be a pretty loud goddamn whistle,” Robbins said skeptically.

“It is. We were using them on patrol around H-Systems.”

“Why David and the doctor?” Thomas said, anger in his voice.

David’s face went scarlet.  An ugly countenance of threat overcame him and he leaned toward Thomas, clearly, finally, having reached the end of his patience with the man.  “Look here, you—”

The doctor raised his hand to calm both of them. “Let’s not get into personal issues, okay? We really don’t have time and it doesn’t matter at this point. This might be our only chance for freedom. Now, Dejah wants her daughter back, and we want the hell out of here. This plan might just kill two birds with one stone.”

“Or kill all of us,” an elderly lady in a flowered shirt said. “Have you stopped to think what happens if this plan fails?”

“I imagine things won’t be very good,” Brooks said.

“That’s an understatement,” she snapped.

“Well, we’ve got to do something,” said Torri. “Things sure won’t be very good if we stay here and wait for the next big flesh feast, either.” 

God bless you
, Dejah thought. 
We can’t talk about failure anymore.
She and Torri traded smiles.

Robbins brought them back to the issue at hand. “As to your question, Thomas, I’m going because I have the serum to inject Bal Shem. They obey him; they listen to him. If we can get Bal Shem cured, he might call off the others or at least draw their attention while the rest of us get away. David’s going because he has military training, he’s strong, and I’ll need help getting to Bal Shem. If one of us goes down, the other one will have to inject the bastard.”

“So, we’re basing this plan on the guess that he
might
be able to call off the infected? Isn’t he the terrorist that blew up the fucking plane that started all of this?” Thomas said. The old woman and another man beside her grumbled to each other in whispers.

“I think if we can inject the serum, then hold him hostage to his own shop of horrors, he’ll do what we damn well tell him to do,” Robbins said.

“Do you have a better plan?” Abbott asked Thomas.

An elderly man from the back of the crowd chimed in. “If we have this serum, why not inject the guards outside this barn? Then, when they come to or begin to get better or whatever, we can negotiate with them, or sneak away. Surely anyone recovering from the infection would want to get away as badly as we do.”

Brooks nodded.  “We could, but then we’re still posed with the problem of all the other zombies in the camp coming after us if they learn of our escape.  If we get Bal Shem cured, he can control the whole camp, corral them or command them to set us free.”

“Also,” Robbins added, “There is an indication that the serum does not work on everyone.  Eighteen out of the 20 people tested recovered from the infection.  Two of them remained sick with the virus.”

“So,” the old man retorted, “What’s to guarantee it’ll work on
him
?”

“No guarantee,” Robbins said.

“I still think it’s our best chance for success,” Brooks said. “If it works, we’ve got a helluva lot better chance of getting out alive than if we all just run for it and die in a zombie fox hunt.”

The crowd was silent as the realization settled over them.  It seemed there was a general consensus that there was no foolproof plan, and they had to settle for this.  Which was still better than nothing.

Abbott turned to Robbins. “Me and Brooks, we’ll handle the disturbance to draw the zombies away from the trailer while you go for Bal Shem.”

“Good,” Robbins said.

“Who wants to go work on the loose boards?” David asked the group.  Faces stared back at him.  They looked scared.

The college-aged man raised his hand. “I’ll get working on it right now.” He got up, and left the circle. “I’ll help,” said Torri, and followed him into the back of the barn.

“Okay. Once we know those boards are removable, we’ll get this plan in action,” said Robbins.  “I’ll get the syringes ready. Brooks, Abbott form a group and plan for the disturbance, and try to arm as many people as possible with makeshift weapons. There’s going to be a big risk when you leave the barn, but the larger your group, the better off you’ll be for a while. When Dejah blows that whistle, all hell needs to break loose to draw the infected away from the trailer so we can get in there and inject Bal Shem. As soon as we get the girl and Dejah free of the trailer, then we’ll draw the zombies’ attention back to Bal Shem’s trailer again, force him to give the order for them to set us free, or at the very least try to draw them as a crowd away from you all.” Robbins stood, and out of habit, brushed his dirty pants. Then he looked up at them and smiled.

“Sharp, doc.  Looking good.” David grinned.

“Let’s rock,” said Abbott.

*       *       *

The boards were loose. Robbins with his bag of syringes and David, armed with a small knife someone had managed to keep, were ready and positioned. Brooks and Abbott armed as many people who were willing to fight with improvised weapons, most of which consisted of boards with protruding rusty nails. There were a few sharpened wood handles from rakes and assorted farm tools found beneath floorboards or between hay bales. One man came up with a shirt-tied bag with empty food cans filled with dirt for weight. Another used the sharp lids from the tin cans and fashioned a rudimentary ax.

Brooks and Abbott used an old system of rope and wood pulleys to hoist a bale of hay over the door. After Dejah was taken and escorted to meet Bal Shem, they figured only one or two guards would be left at the barn. Brooks would take a swing at the nearest one. When the infected jumped him, assuming they did, another man would let the hoisted bale fall. The key was trying to keep Brooks from being killed or hauled away to be eaten. While the commotion was going on, a group of people would form a wall to block the back section of the barn from view while Robbins and David slipped out.  Behind them, Torri and the other young man would return the boards and use some hay to conceal the exit.

It all sounded good in theory. God help them carry it off.

Dejah pushed the barn door open a crack. Immediately three infected guards lurched toward her.

“I need to speak with Bal Shem.”

“Go inside. Stay.”

“I’m the mother of the child who heals the eaten people,” Dejah said. She waited, her heart beating hard against her ribs.
What if it isn’t Selah in there? What if all of this is for nothing?
But then she knew that, for everyone else, it wasn’t about Selah, it was about getting out of this hellhole. Shame burned her cheeks. She was as selfish as she’d accused Thomas of being, but she prayed that it
was
Selah in there, only because it meant she was alive and there was a chance for them.  And if it wasn’t – if by some insane twist of fate it was some other child – she would follow through anyway, and save that child as if it was her own.

The infected guards grunted between each other uncertainly before one shoved open the door. Two guards came into the barn; the third took Dejah by the arm and escorted her outside onto the path.

Everyone tried to relax.  Tried to breathe easy.  But it felt like everyone was holding a collective breath.

Dejah and her escort were out of earshot on their way to the trailers at the far end of camp.

Brooks snapped into action. Before the infected guards closed the doors, he lunged from the shadows and punched the nearest guard in the gut.

The infected man doubled over, gasping, and then Brooks unleashed a barrage of punishing blows worthy of a champion kickboxer. The other guard lumbered into the fray, but Brooks backed up in time for the hay bale to drop onto them. While Abbott and a few other men jumped the guards now struggling beneath the fallen bale, Robbins and David slipped through the hole made by the loosened slats in the back of the barn.  They splashed out into a rut of mud and ran, dodging for cover from tree to tree until they reached the dilapidated barn behind the trailer.

Thunder boomed overhead and a loud crack broke the heavens wide open sending a cascade of rain pouring to the earth.

*       *       *

Dejah walked through the rain, trying to keep her face directed away from the infected guard pulling her along. She could not look at him after she’d caught a glimpse of his eroded face.  She could barely keep from shuddering at the touch of his skin, the flesh of his palm like gel upon her arm, his fingertips like wet bone. At the same time, she fought her curiosity in wanting to see if Robbins and David had made the run for the barn yet by keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, watching the path and the clinic trailer that grew closer as they approached. She tried not to inhale too much. The foul stench from the infected guard’s body was nauseating, but the rain seemed to lessen the odor.

Mist lay over the camp, and mud was sticky in the dirt path between the rows of tents. Her boots made sucking noises at each step. She heard the groans of the dying and the infected issuing from the far corners of the camp, and the shouts of the people and guards in the barn behind.

Several of the feral infected wandered around in the rain, staring into the distance.  When she went up the path, they spotted her. She resisted the urge to bolt. The guard clasped more tightly than before and held up a hand, staying the mindless ones shuffling near the path. They obeyed him. It was clear to Dejah that strict order had been established between the talking infected and the feral. She could only hope for the sake of their plan that Bal Shem truly was the one calling all the shots.

From the side of the path, three other infected guards made a semi-circle behind her, perhaps under orders to herd escapees instead of attacking them. They followed her like stray dogs torn between hunger and fear.

They reached the steps of Bal Shem’s trailer. Water poured over the metal stairs, forming a huge puddle around the front of the trailer. She reached for the cold, wet handrail, and then froze. A wall of stink slammed into her: the smell of rotten flesh. She swallowed and resisted the urge to gag. Rain dripped from the eaves, rushing over her head and body. Although freezing, the water washed the filth away, providing her a sense of renewal and hope. Her teeth began violently chattering, as the guard pulled her the rest of the way up the slippery stairs and shoved open the flimsy door.

She was inside. Lighting was poor, murky and brown through the curtains. The door banged shut behind her as her eyes adjusted. The talker walked into the room with her, still clinging to her arm. The man Dejah assumed to be Bal Shem sat behind a desk on the far side of the grimy room, staring vacantly at the wall to his left. The guard pushed her into a chair, and then went to speak with Bal Shem.