Zombie Rules (Book 3): ZFINITY (13 page)

I repeated the same actions with every room I came to. The bottom level of the house was empty, leaving me to wonder if I had misread the whole situation. Maybe he wasn’t in the house after all, and I had followed somebody else’s trail. I went back through every room, double checking closets, behind doors, everywhere.

Nothing.

I knew zombies couldn’t climb stairs, at least I thought I did, until I came to the stairway of the house leading to the main floor. I glanced down, and the carpeting was heavily soiled, including some spots of moist mud. Well, this was new. I aimed my assault rifle up the stairs and slowly walked up.

The stairs were custom made with beautiful oak wood and hand rails, and it curved ninety degrees at the halfway point. As I worked my way around the curve, I saw him. He was standing at the top of the stairs silently, as if he were expecting me. He stared at me for a moment before opening his mouth and gnashed his teeth. I believe several things went through my mind, but the one thought which seemed to stick was this: I had just learned more about this thing in the past few seconds, than the docs did in the past two days.

He waited for an opportunity to escape, and when it presented itself, he took advantage. He knew someone would come after him. Therefore, he deliberately and intentionally set a trap. Somehow, he knew his bearings and was able to maintain a route in a specific direction. Hell, he had even figured out how to walk up a stairway.

And, he wasn’t alone.

*****

“He did what?” Fred implored. Terry started to explain again, but Fred didn’t wait and began running toward the truck. Terry followed. Fred barely glanced at Anthony and Carla as he jumped in the driver’s seat. Terry jumped in the back as Fred sped off, spinning a rooster tail of gravel in their wake.

*****

“Can you talk?” I asked as I brought my rifle to bear. “If you can, you should pray.”

He worked his mouth and gnashed his teeth again as I gently squeezed the trigger. I distinctly heard the hammer strike the firing pin, which should have been immediately followed by a loud report of the bullet firing, but, there was no loud report. There was no recoil against my shoulder. The rifle had misfired.

I instinctively started my immediate action drill, but only got as far as pulling the charging handle when the bastard launched himself and landed on me. The two of us went tumbling down the stairs and I dropped my rifle in the process. I saw stars when my head thumped the floor, but still had the presence of mind to reach up with my hands and grab him around the throat. The lack of oxygen did not faze him, but at least I was keeping his teeth away from me. He was so close I could smell the foul stench of his waning breath.

He was extremely strong, which seemed impossible. As I wrestled with him, I heard some bumping noises from the top of the stairway. Peering around his ugly face, I saw a group of zombies moving my way. One of them couldn’t make his feet work properly, and fell down the stairs in a heap. Others followed him, falling in heaps, only to start crawling their way toward me. My nemesis was flailing at me with his arms, grabbing with his rotten hands. With tremendous effort, I worked my legs between our torsos and kicked him off me. I reached for my handgun and got it out of the holster as he got to his feet. I expected him to charge me again and brought my gun up to bear. I had a bead on him and was about to fire when one of his friends grabbed me, jostling my arm. I elbowed it violently, redirected my aim, and shot it. I was rewarded with a splatter of black ooze covering my face. I reeled in horror as some of it got in my mouth.

I had no time to think about the possible ramifications before I felt a hard tug on my leg. I spit out what I could and looked to see another zombie, a willowy female wearing nothing but a simple black negligee about to take a bite out of my leg. I was both frightened and angry, the adrenalin was coursing through my body at Mach one. I shot quickly. There were six more of them crawling down the last of the steps and toward me. I hastened a look around, trying to locate the big one, but he was nowhere in sight.

I quickly backpedaled until I was in a corner, forced myself to take careful aim, and slowly, methodically, shot the unholy bastards, all the while looking desperately for my nemesis to reappear.

The slide locked back before I killed the last one, a short fat man with a matted gray beard. I had no time to reload, he was too close. I held him at arm’s length while I used the Kimber semiautomatic as a hammer and bashed his skull in. Skull and brain matter exploded as I hit him again and again. He finally fell and I finished the job by stomping his face in. Now I had time to reload and did so hurriedly.

I looked around in a near panic as I gagged and fought to catch my breath. Seeing there were no other threats, I knew I had to force myself to vomit. I started to gag myself with my finger, but my hands were filthy, covered in the black substance, and I didn’t want even more of it in my mouth. I had to do something drastic.

I hustled over to a closet and retrieved a coat hanger. It was probably not the most proficient method, but it was the only thing I could think of in that particular moment. Wrapping a windbreaker jacket around one of my hands, I shaped the hanger and then thrust it down my throat. I may have damaged something, but that was the least of my worries. When I started gagging, I bent forward and hurled out my breakfast.

I’m not sure how long I did this, but it seemed like several minutes before I started dry heaving. I stopped then and used the water from my camel back to rinse my mouth out. I wasn’t sure if it was going to work. For all I knew I was going to turn into one of those things at any minute.

When I finally gathered my senses, I found myself staring at a full length mirror which was hanging on the closet door. Assessing myself in the reflection, it didn’t look good. I was covered in black ooze, brain tissue, vomit, and who knows what else. I hurriedly found a bathroom and even though I knew better, tried the faucet. Nothing. The toilet bowl and tank were empty as well. Damn.

I went into the next room where I last saw the big one, but he was gone. Stepping outside, I looked around the backyard, but he was nowhere to be seen. Locking the sliding glass doors and pushing a couch up against it, I cleared the upstairs of any other possible zombies hiding out and then worked my way back down to the garage. It too was devoid of any zombies, but there was something much more important in the far back corner, a water heater, and most importantly, it had a thick layer of insulation wrapped around it. I hoped it was an indicator that it had not frozen and cracked at some point in time.

“Alright,” I whispered to it, “I sure hope you have a little water left.”

Opening the drain valve, I was rewarded with a steady flow. I quickly shut the valve off, found a plastic pail, and filled it with the old stale water. It was cold and did not smell very pleasant, but I had no choice. I carried the pail back inside, stripped naked, and washed the filth off me as best I could while standing in front of the mirror.

The only wound I found was a scratch about an eighth of an inch long on my left index finger. There was no blood, but the skin had been broken. The implications were clear, and I must admit I was scared. Remembering what Konya had done to his thumb, I fished around in my pants pocket and found a cigarette lighter. Gritting my teeth, I held the open flame against my finger. It hurt like hell, but I forced myself to hold my finger over the flame until I couldn’t take the pain any longer. Pulling away, I looked it over. The smell of burning of flesh almost drowned out the rotten zombie odor. The wound was cauterized. I knew I was going to have permanent nerve damage in the finger, but I had no other choice.

My clothes were ruined. I had no intention of wearing them again, but I didn’t want to walk home buck naked either. The master bedroom had one of those large California closets with plenty of men’s clothing. I settled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Although they were ill-fitting, they were going to have to do, but there was no footwear large enough to fit my size thirteens. The man of this house was obviously short and fat with little stubby feet.

I cleaned myself up the best I could and dressed in my new clothes. Only then did I remember my assault rifle. Picking it up, I finished the immediate action drill, and performed a test fire into a zombie’s head. It fired perfectly. I found the unfired bullet which caused this mess, picked it up, and inspected it closely. The primer had a distinct dimple from the impact of the firing pin, yet it had not fired. It was one of our reloads. Shit, I wondered how many other rounds were going to misfire on us.

It was time to leave. I had no intention of continuing the hunt, I needed to get home. As I stepped through the doorway, I saw a figure emerge from behind the same tree I hid behind earlier and came within a hair’s breadth of shooting before I realized it was Fred. My heart skipped a beat. Man was I glad to see him. I lowered my weapon, waved, and jogged up to him. He eyed me up and down.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” I responded and explained. Fred listened quietly as I told him everything, including the scratch and the body fluids getting into my mouth. When I was finished, Fred was quiet for a long minute. When he spoke, it was directly and with a somber stare.

“Zach, as your surrogate father, I am very displeased with you. Damn it, son, you could have gotten yourself killed, and I forbid you from doing anything like this again,” he started to walk away, but stopped and turned back to me.

“God damn it!” he scolded. “Why do you think I came back after I found my daughter? It was because of the way I felt for all of you, and now, instead of coming to me first, you pull a stunt like this. I could have helped you, son, what the hell was going through your brain anyway?”

I struggled for words. “Those two psychologists got me so mad I… I don’t know,” I struggled for words and the pain I was feeling made me realize how much I valued Fred’s opinion of me.

“I’m sorry, Fred,” I finally said. He stared at me a moment before attempting to put his arm around me. I quickly stepped back.

“No, you can’t touch me. If I’m infected, I’ll probably infect you as well.”

Fred nodded, duly chastened. “What do we do now, son? Am I supposed to put a bullet in your head?” he asked.

“You very well might have to, but I have an idea. We’re going to carry that cage back to the house.”

Fred listened attentively as I explained. When I was finished, he nodded.

“Alright, I guess it’s the best course of action. In the meantime that bastard is roaming around out here somewhere.”

“Yeah, when I got my gun out and shot one of his friends, he realized he was in danger and escaped.”

“He’s getting smarter,” Fred said grimly. I had to agree. The question in my mind, did the tests somehow cause his brain to start thinking again? I took a deep breath.

“I’m going to leave our friend with a parting gift,” I said. It only took a few minutes to get a robust fire going in the house. Flames were visible through the windows as Fred and I walked away.

I sat tiredly in the cage, listening to the sound of a vehicle drive up, skid to a stop, and upon hearing the door open, the hurried footsteps of people running toward the barn. Julie and Andie pushed through the barn door. Julie was holding little Frederick, who was bundled up to the point where I could barely see his face sticking out. She handed him off to Andie and hurried over to the cage.

“Are you okay?” she asked with exasperation as she started pulling on the door to the cage, even though the chain with the padlock was in plain sight.

“I’m fine, but stop with trying to open the door. I need to stay in here a while,” I said, and explained to the both of them about the results of the encounter. After I finished, they were quiet, confused, and worried. The emotions were etched on both of their faces.

Andie reached out and touched the cage timidly, as if drawn to it but at the same time worried it might infect her somehow. “Is this like quarantine, or something?” she finally asked.

“Yeah, I talked it over with Fred and we agreed this is the best course of action.”

“For how long?” Julie implored.

“At least twenty-four hours,” I answered. “If there are any symptoms, I’ll be in here at least a day or two longer.”

The two of them continued to stare at me, afraid to ask the ultimate question. I answered it for them.

“If I turn into one of those things, Fred is going to take care of it. I made him promise,” I had no sooner said it than her tears started. Even Andie was crying. I tried to put on a reassuring smile.

“Hey now, it’s not going to come to that. This is merely a precautionary measure.”

“But, you’re in a cage!” Julie lamented. I tried to calm her down and talk to her. Fred returned while we were talking with Tommy and Joe in tow. They were carrying an assortment of items.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetie. See, Fred has everything I need. A sleeping bag, food, water, a bucket I can do my business in, all of the luxuries of life.”

Fred turned the key in the padlock and pulled the chain out through the bars. Julie tried to step past him but he quickly grabbed her, preventing her from going any further. She responded with an angry glare, but he didn’t let go. With a fatherly shake of his head, he explained.

“I can’t let you. If he’s infected, he’ll infect anyone who comes into contact with him,” Fred looked at her gently as he scolded her. Julie’s glare changed to doubt and she looked over at me for confirmation. I nodded.

“In fact, I’ve asked Fred to padlock the barn door after everyone leaves. The last thing I want is to be a sideshow attraction.”

It took a moment for total understanding, but eventually, she nodded sadly.

“It’s precautionary, but we must establish a protocol. If someone else becomes exposed, they’ll be less inclined to argue about being quarantined if I put myself through the same thing,” I gave the two girls a confident smile and decided to change the subject.

“Okay, since I’m going to be out of action for the next day or two, here’s what needs to be done around the farm…”

We talked until little Frederick became fussy. Julie and Andie reluctantly left, vowing to come back first thing in the morning. Fred and the boys left a minute later. Once he locked the barn door, I lit a kerosene lantern, opened the two knapsacks, and inspected the contents. The first item I paid attention to was a couple of bottles of antibiotics. We’d found them in a drug store about two years ago and I realized we had never used them. The expiration dates were long past, but I didn’t care. Looking at the dosage instructions, I doubled up and downed the pills with a gulp of water. Fred had added a small notepad in the pack, along with a thermometer. I took a reading, ninety-nine degrees, and dutifully logged everything in the notepad.

There was an assortment of other items, which I wasn’t too interested in at the moment, and a thick textbook about nuclear energy. I thought about Benny and chuckled to myself. I rolled out the sleeping bag, made myself comfortable, and started reading.

I had read for almost an hour when I became aware that my skin was feeling weird, like when you’re a kid and you’ve rolled around in the grass too much. My finger also felt like it was on fire. I checked my temperature and resting pulse rate. Both were slightly elevated. I logged the time and the information before going back to my book, but ten minutes later, I was on my feet. I was feeling antsy and restless. I did some calisthenics and pushups to relieve the nervous energy and then tried to read again, but it was no use. I couldn’t sit still, nor could I concentrate. I heard someone walking up and a moment later, there was a soft knock on the barn door.

“Hoss, are you awake?” Rowdy asked.

“Yeah, Rowdy, but you can’t come in, Fred padlocked the door,” I heard him chortle, followed by the rattle of some keys. A few seconds was all it took for him to defeat the lock. He walked in carrying a bottle of dark liquor. Julie was following him.

“Where do you think Fred got them padlocks from? I kept copies of all of the keys. Besides, someone, and I won’t name any names, but someone threatened to shoot my manhood off if I didn’t get her back in here.”

“Did you really think I would stay away?” she asked rhetorically as she found something to sit on. “I’m with you until the end, remember?”

I nodded and smiled sadly at her. “How is Lil’ Rick?”

“He’s fine, Andie agreed to watch him.”

I stared at her somberly. “If it comes down to it, I will have to be killed. I insist on it. You understand, don’t you?” I asked. She closed her eyes and quietly nodded.

Rowdy grabbed a galvanized bucket, turned it upside down and sat on it. He then pulled a coffee cup out of his jacket pocket and poured a healthy shot before handing it to me.

“Something tells me we can’t drink out of the same bottle,” he said with a halfhearted chuckle, helped himself to a swallow and looked me over. “What’s going to happen, Zach? Are you infected?” he asked.

I looked at the dark liquid, thought, why not, and took a sip. It burned my throat pleasantly as I swallowed it. Taking another sip, I told them what happened, all of it.

“So, there is a risk I’ve been infected and I could turn,” I concluded.

“You mean, turn into one of them rotten pus filled bastards?” he implored. Julie glared at him. I nodded my head, which caused him to take a healthy swallow before replenishing my coffee mug. “So, if you turn, one of us is going to have to shoot you, and then burn your corpse,” his question got another nod from me and another glare from Julie. Rowdy scratched his beard.

“Shit fire, Hoss. I don’t know what to say.” The three of us sat in silence for a few minutes before Rowdy spoke again.

“Who is going to do it?” he asked reluctantly.

“Fred is going to take care of it, y’all won’t have to worry about anything,” I sighed heavily before continuing. “Now, consider this an order: none of y’all are going to try to stop him or argue with him. Don’t question him, just let him do his job, it’s going to be hard enough on him as it is, so he doesn’t need anyone giving him grief about it. Now, there’s no logical reason to belabor the issue, so let’s change the subject.”

We were all quiet for a time and the only noise was an owl hooting in the distance. Julie shivered and pulled her jacket tighter. Rowdy cleared his throat.

“It’s a little cold in here, how about I fire up that kerosene heater,” he said, pointing at the heater sitting in the corner.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” I replied. Rowdy primed it and had it going in no time. He sat back on the bucket and looked around. The silence was apparently making him uncomfortable.

“Y’all want to know a secret?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied.

“Rhonda actually kissed me yesterday,” he said with a smile. “I think I’m growing on her.”

I chuckled. “Good for you, Hoss.”

“I mean, I know if we become an item or something, the kids are part of the package, but it’ll be worth it, I’m thinking.”

“I bet you’d be a pretty good dad. They certainly like your singing,” I was serious when I said it. Hell, I liked his singing too, and I was not a fan of country music. The liquor seemed to be calming my nerves a little bit, but now I was feeling hot and I was sweating. They didn’t notice, or pretended not to.

“She’s an old fashioned gal,” Rowdy continued, “she said we weren’t going to do anything until she was sure I’m in love with her and she’s in love with me.”

“Sounds reasonable,” I said.

“You think?”

“Sure, after all, you said yourself she’s an old fashioned gal,” I responded. Rowdy nodded. I continued. “I bet she wants you to clean up your manners. No more belching and farting all of the time, and don’t be surprised if she insists you cut out your drinking.”

Rowdy groaned. “Yeah, she’s said as much already.”

I chuckled again. “I think she’d be good for you.”

“Zach, what do we do if, you know, if you aren’t with us anymore?” Rowdy asked as he shot a quick glance at Julie.

“You guys stick together. This is a good group we have, Rowdy. Each of you has unique strong points. Like you for example, keeping extra copies of keys. You think of little things that nobody else does.”

“Why, thank you for the compliment, Hoss.”

“Can I come in?” Terry was standing at the entrance to the barn. He had been living in the tour bus with Rowdy, so I guess it was a given he was going to show up. Rowdy looked at me. I nodded.

“Come on in, Hoss!” he shouted out. Terry came in a moment later, found something to sit on, and dragged it over beside Rowdy.

“Zach, I want to apologize. I should have gone with you,” he said. Rowdy handed him the bottle, to which he took a long swallow. I started to say something, but he waved me off.

“I knew you needed back up. Hell, we always work in teams, but I was thinking with the wrong head at that particular moment.”

I didn’t say anything. I had wondered if he was going to admit it. Rowdy and Julie looked him over.

“Are you trying to play a little bit of hide the salami with Carla?” Rowdy finally asked in his characteristic manner, which he followed up with a nudge in the ribs. “You dog, you.”

“You’re not worried about her husband?” I asked.

Terry shrugged. “I’ve been keeping a respectful distance, but she’s been making friendly overtures, and Anthony seems oblivious. It’s like he’s in his own little world most of the time. She probably spent the better part of their marriage busting his balls, and now that he’s a meek little lamb, she’s tired of him.”

“It’s a good analysis,” I opined, “but think of it, you know she’s a ballbuster, but you want to get with her anyway,” I set the coffee mug of liquor down and took a long drink of water from a canteen.

Terry shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a whore.”

“I hope you’re careful and it doesn’t blow up in your face like it did with Kelly.”

“Yeah,” Terry responded quietly and took another long swallow before giving it back to Rowdy. “I’m going to turn in early,” he looked over at Julie. “I promised your beautiful wife I’d do all of your chores while you’re in quarantine hell.”

“Alright, buddy. See ya’ later,” I said.

“He’s a good guy,” Rowdy said after he left. “He’s been getting the homestead ready to live in. He’s put a lot of work into it, but I don’t think he realizes Carla would never live in such a common house.” Everyone chuckled.

Rowdy stood. “I’m supposed to help out with the chores too, but if you two need company, I can sit here all night,” Rowdy said.

“No, it’s fine. I think I want to talk to Julie a little bit and then try to get some sleep.”

“Okay, Hoss, whatever you say. I’ll check back in the morning,” Rowdy started to reach through the cage and shake my hand, but I waved him away. He handed the key to Julie before walking out.

When he was out of earshot, I spoke quietly to Julie. “I meant to say it earlier and I know I don’t say it enough, but I want you to know I love you very much. I love you, Frederick, and our unborn child more than anything.”

Julie looked at me somberly. “I love you too, Zach,” she said worriedly. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m infected,” I said. She involuntarily let out a whimper and then tried to reach into the cage, but I waved her off angrily.

“Sweetheart, this is exactly why I didn’t want you in here. Under no circumstances are you to come into contact with me. If you become infected, what happens then?”

She hung her head, admonished. Tears sprang unbidden from her eyes. It took her a minute, but she composed herself, wiped her face with the back of her jacket sleeve and took a deep breath. “You’re right, I’m sorry, but I’m still not leaving.”

I sighed. “I didn’t mean to snap at you,” I said meekly. She nodded in understanding.

“Anyway, like I was saying, I’m not feeling well. My body itches and I feel like I’m running a temperature.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked anxiously. I thought for a moment and then pushed my notepad through the slot.

“Yeah, I want you to turn off your emotions and I want you to observe and notate everything. If my behavior changes, whether I become deathly quiet, or I start jumping up and down like a wild banshee, I want you to write it down. Observe and notate everything you see. Can you do that?”