World Memorial (11 page)

"It was me," said Bud.

Beulah looked past Franklin to Bud. She looked sad for a moment, then her smile returned. She stepped around Franklin, heading back among the trees to where Bud stood.

"Was it you, Bud?"

"It was, ma'am," said Bud, frowning. "But how—"

"I almost hoped it hadn't been either of you. You seem like nice enough boys. But Parker is very important to my plans, so there's that."

Bud frowned deeply at her, then to Franklin, who gave no response. Bud looked back to Beulah. "Well, sorry for shootin' at your friend, ma'am, but—"

Beulah reached out and tapped him lightly in the chest.

There was a soft squelching “pop” and Bud was gone. Franklin blinked, not understanding. A fine mist of blood rained down on the snow where Bud had stood. The miniscule drops pelted the snow and spattered the trees. Then Franklin understood what had happened.

"What the hell!" he meant to yell, too shaken to care about swearing, but "W" was all he got out.

"Shhhh," said Beulah. "Not so loud." And Franklin couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He couldn't look away as she turned to face him.

Her smile looked sad for a second. "I suppose I can't have you reporting back to the preacher, can I?"

She stepped over to him, her feet leaving light depressions in the snow. She wore no boots or shoes. Her feet were bare.

"Is there anything you'd like to say, Franklin?"

And suddenly Franklin could speak. He still couldn't move. He wanted to run but couldn't.

"My God," he said.

Beulah shook her head, smiling. "Oh, sweetie. I'm not your god."

She leaned in close, still smiling. "I'm her sister."

She lightly tapped his chest.

Angie opened the truck door and climbed out into the town square, using her cane for balance. The gates to World Memorial swung shut behind her, pushed by two guards. Dunwoody climbed out of the driver’s side and shut the door. Walsh climbed out of the truck bed.

A small group of townsfolk stood watching Angie, and she could tell from their faces something had happened. Something bad.

"Mom," said Maylee's voice to her left. She looked to see her walking over, her coat drawn tight against the wind.

"What happened?" said Angie.

"Something got in," said Maylee. "Several things. Someone died."

"Who?" said Angie.

"We lost Rooney,” said Maylee, swallowing. “And Rhia. She got bit. Elton shot her."

Angie sighed. "Dammit. She just lost her boy, too. How the hell did they get in?"

"Bad leadership?" said Elton. Angie turned to see him walking up from one side. "That's my vote."

"Stay out of this, Elton," said Angie.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Elton. "Just thought you might like to hear from the guy who did what needed to be done."

Angie ignored him, turning back to Maylee. "How did they get in?"

Maylee sighed. "A metal flap was bent open. Things pushed their way in."

“What got Rooney? Corpse?" said Angie.

Maylee shook her head. "Bobcat. It was bad, Mom."

"What were you doing while this was happening?"

"Stopping it!" said Maylee.

"She means
trying
to stop it," said Elton, stepping closer. "Took her so long two people died." He was louder than usual. Angie realized he wasn't really talking to her. He was talking to those gathered to watch. She could see on their faces that some agreed with him.

"What the hell is your problem?" she said, turning to face him.

"For fuck’s sake," said Elton, shaking his head. "It's like you two coach each other on what to say. This place has gotten too big to be led by a crippled woman and her daughter. I think what happened today proves that."

Angie cocked her head at him, then shook it. She took three, cane-assisted steps toward him then stopped. She gripped the handle so tightly her knuckles were white. "You will back the fuck off right now, Elton. You are here because I let you in."

"You act like you own this place!" said Elton.

"I
do
own this place!" Angie snapped back. She stopped, looking at the townsfolk standing behind Elton. They were staring at her. She looked back to Elton. "And I am responsible for it. Every person here is my responsibility. While you are standing around pronouncing judgment on what I do, I am doing it. I am feeding, clothing, and protecting these people. Including you."

"You mean the people who live in shacks and boxes while you live in a house?"

"I gave a room to everyone who showed up until there was no more space, Elton. What would you have me do? Make those people move? Do you even think about the shit you're saying?

One of the alarms sounded. Metal and wood clanged together, echoing off the walls. "Help!" came a distant voice, somewhere behind a nearby shack.

"Dammit," said Maylee, “what is it now?" She loosened the belt across her chest and slid her bat free.

Dalton ran in from around a corner, almost slipping in the snow. "Maylee, Mom! Something got in!”

"What is it?" said Angie, hurrying as fast as she could on her ankle.

"Animal, I think," said Dalton, breathing heavily in the cold.

"Great," said Angie. She turned to everyone still watching. "Everyone back in your homes! Maylee, get the rest of the Guard!"

"Again?" said Elton, again loud enough for those gathered to hear. "How's that protecting us all thing going?"

"You're a guard, right, Elton?" said Angie. "Get your ass to where the trouble is and do something!"

He snorted at her. Maylee was already gone around the corner, Dalton right behind her.

* * *

Maylee ran as fast as she could, not sure where she was going. She was mad. Furious. How in the hell had this happened again? Part of her hoped the screaming would come again, so it could guide her to where the trouble was. She felt terrible for thinking it.

The scream came again. Again, she couldn't place it.

"Dalton!" she yelled, hearing him pounding along behind her. "Where is it coming from?"

"I can't tell!"

Something crashed to her left. "I think I got it!" she yelled. "This way!" She ducked between two barrels and headed down a long narrow path between campers and sheds.

All was quiet except her breath as she ran, metal walls speeding by. Her bat pumped up and down in her right hand. She glanced at a large flat button set into one wall as they passed. One of West's installations. She had no use for it now. They kept running.

Then she emerged next to a beaten rusted trailer. A wild boar stood over an old man. Blood coated a wound in the man's leg. He clutched the wound and rocked back and forth in pain. His name was Morris and he'd lost his grandchildren to the corpses. The boar grunted, readying to charge him.

"Hey!" yelled Maylee, clanging her bat against the trailer. The boar jerked its head towards her. It charged away from the man and headed for Maylee.

"Crap," said Dalton as he skidded to a stop behind her. "Do you ever think this crap out?"

"Not really," said Maylee, bracing herself as the boar raced toward them. She raised her bat over her head.

The boar drew close, snorting angrily into the cold air.

"I'm thinking we should run," said Dalton.

"No. It will catch us. It's too fast." She kept her bat over her head. She would have to be fast and hit hard. If the boar kept coming they would have nowhere to go. They were boxed in.

For a moment there was a glimmer of a younger her. She felt sorry for the animal rushing toward her in a blind rage. Then the glimmer was gone and she slammed down with all her strength on the boar's skull. Blood shot out in all directions. Its chin rammed into the snow, its momentum pushing it forward as it slid to a halt.

It grunted, struggling to get up, staring at Maylee with one eye. The eye screamed hatred. The other eye was mashed into the snow.

"Dammit," said Maylee, raising her bat again.

"I got it," came a man's voice to her right. It was North, the guard with the bristled goatee. He rushed closer and leveled his rifle at the boar. He fired once into the boar's back. The boar grunted and was still, its blood spreading out into the snow.

"Thanks, North. Did you see how it got in?"

He shook his head. "Nope, sure didn't."

"Look out!" yelled Dalton from behind them both.

Maylee looked over North's shoulder. A pack of boars - Maylee counted eight or nine - raced toward them.

"Out of the way!" yelled Maylee, grabbing North's collar and pulling him toward her.

"What?" said North, twisting his head around as he stumbled. "Oh shit," he said when he saw the boars. He started bringing his rifle around to shoot.

"No time for that!" yelled Maylee. "Run!"

"You said they were too fast!" said Dalton.

"We don't have a choice!" yelled Maylee. "Go!"

The three of them ran. Maylee heard the boars skid in the snow as they changed direction. She didn't dare slow down to look, knowing they would need every second.

Walls of metal raced by. Shacks and campers, old rusted barrels. Maylee's own breath and pounding footsteps echoed around her. Dalton ran in front of her, and she could hear North behind her. And behind that, the angry snorts and pounding feet of the boars.

The button came back into view. Without slowing down, Maylee smacked it with her free hand. A grinding of gears told her it was working. She glanced behind to see thick barbed wire snap up from the snow, strung taut between gears hidden among the buildings.

Grunting and squealing, the boars tripped over the wires. Several fell across the snow, breaking limbs and tripping the others. They thrashed in pain and anger. The boars at the back climbed over them, not slowing down. They made it past and kept running.

"Well shit," said Maylee, turning her head to face front and kept running. Dalton and North pounded along with her.

They were halfway to the end of the alley when North fell. The rhythm of his running faltered, followed by a whump in the snow. "No," she heard him say. Maylee stopped, turning.

He was screaming before she finished turning around. The boars were upon him. He was on his back, holding up his hands to block. The first boar to reach him grunted and rammed its head and tusks into his stomach. He screamed and blood seeped from around the boar's tusks. The boar whipped its head back and forth furiously, tearing holes in North's body.

"North!" yelled Maylee, rushing toward him, bat ready. She knew it was too late. She knew they would have to leave him.

The other boars reached North, goring and trampling. They huffed and stomped, grinding his body into the snow. He screamed and gurgled, his struggles growing weaker. Maylee stopped running, staring for a second.

"Shit," she said. "I'm sorry, North."

One of the boars stopped its frenzied trampling and looked at her. It snorted angrily into the cold air.

"We gotta go," said Dalton, coming up behind her. She nodded.

They both ran as the boars finished North and turned on them.

* * *

Angie whipped her gaze around as a new scream echoed among the buildings. It wasn’t the scream Maylee had rushed to respond to. It was closer, too. A second scream quickly followed. Elton had already rushed off in a different direction. The square was empty but for Angie, Dunwoody, Walsh and a small cluster of townsfolk.

A group of corpses stumbled into the square, groaning and reaching. They were half-frozen, their brittle skin breaking with each movement. Frozen black blood coated their arms. The townsfolk backed away, looking for escape routes. The corpses had come in using the two main exits from the square. Everyone was boxed in.

"Everyone! Into the truck!" Angie ordered.

She spun around, grabbing the tailgate and pulling it down. The townsfolk rushed across the snow. Dunwoody and Walsh opened fire into the corpses. A few fell, holes blown through their skulls. The rest kept coming.

Angie stepped aside from the truck as the townsfolk clambered into the bed. She bent to help the last - an elderly woman - climb up. A younger woman in the truck grabbed the elderly woman's arms and pulled. Grunting, the old woman made it inside. Angie pushed up the tailgate and slammed it shut.

"Everyone stay there!" Angie yelled. The townsfolk looked like they had no intention of doing otherwise. Angie turned to face the corpses.

"There's a lot of them ma'am!" yelled Walsh, firing. A corpse jerked as the side of its face exploded outward. It kept coming. The boy's bullet had not found brain. "We may need to open the gate and get the hell outside."

"No time," said Angie. "They'll reach the truck before we get the gate open. Just keep firing." She put her back against the tailgate, gripping her cane handle. The corpses drew closer, groaning and clutching.

"Ma'am..." said Walsh.

"Dunwoody!" yelled Angie. "Get back in the truck and start the engine!"

"You said there was no time!" said Walsh as Dunwoody scrambled for the truck.

"Not for opening the gate," said Angie.

The corpses came closer, reaching and groaning. Their frozen skin cracked as they moved. They worked their rotten teeth up and down, frozen tongues moving back and forth inside grey mouths.

The engine started behind Angie.

"Come on," she whispered at the approaching corpses. She clenched the handle of her cane.

She waited a few more seconds, the corpses drawing nearer. The townsfolk huddled in the truck bed murmured nervously.

"Hold on back there, everyone!" she yelled. "Dunwoody! Throw it into reverse and gun it!"

Angie ducked to one side as the truck engine revved. The truck rocketed backward, slamming into the corpses. Some flew backward into the snow. Most fell under the tires of the truck. Angie heard bones snap and corpses groan. The truck jerked to a halt, the spinning wheels crunching over two corpse skulls. The corpses' heads imploded. Black muck shot out across the snow.