The Zombie Plagues Dead Road: The Collected books. Page 7

  ~

  “I’ll kill you. I will,” The kid said. He held his gun sideways like some banger kid from a bad Hollywood movie. Blood trickled slowly from one nostril, as well as from several deep cuts up the left side of his face. His eyes were focused and hard.

  “No,” Candace said quietly. Her own forty five was held in both hands aimed at the kid’s chest. He looks like he’s only about thirteen… Fourteen, she corrected.

  The kids lip curled at her. “You think I won’t do it, Bitch? I will… I will, Bitch… I’ll do it.”

  “No,” Candace repeated quietly. “I drop it and you shoot anyway. No way, Kid. No way.” She watched as Bob shifted to his right, drawing farther away from Candace so the kid couldn’t keep both of them in sight.

  “Stop fuckin’ movin’! Stop fuckin’ movin'!” the kid suddenly screamed. The gun barrel wavered a little, nervously jittering up and down, the kid’s finger lightly, compulsively caressing the trigger as Candace watched.

  Tom and Lydia worked their way up silently behind the kid, past the bodies that lay on the ground, one a young girl.

  Behind Tom, Lydia dropped the barrel of her gun and sighted on the kid's back. Tom stared at her dumbly for a second and then followed suit.

  The seconds played out as the blood continued to slowly leak from the kids face. His tongue darted out and tasted it where it ran from his nose. He tried to push it away from his lips where it ran and dripped down onto his chin.

  “Last chance, Bitch,” he said. He brought the barrel of his gun down towards her. At the same time Bob took another step sideways. The kid’s eyes darted to Bob. The gun dipped and swiveled towards him. “I told you…” he began.

  All four guns spoke at once and the kid seemed to do a quick tap dance before the gun fell from his hand without firing. He tried to suck in a breath but collapsed onto the dirty asphalt instead.

  Before anyone could react, the silence was split by a scream from across the river. A young boy stood silhouetted by the rising sun on the opposite side of the river facing them. Something shifted from his side. “I’ll kill you… I’ll kill you… You killed my brother,” the boy screamed in a high falsetto. His arms came up quickly.

  “Hit the ground,” Candace yelled as the kid opened fire with the deer rifle he had in his hands.

  Everyone hit the dirt except Lydia whose face registered astonishment as she turned slowly to the river to face the kid.

  Candace yelled again as she raised herself to both cut and bruised elbows and began to fire back across the river.

  The kid managed three shots before Candace hit him. He slowly toppled over and splashed into the river. Lydia stood. Her mouth open wide, staring across the river to where the kid had been.

  Candace raised her eyes to where Lydia stood, and they caught on the ragged, gaping hole blown through the back of her t-shirt. She continued to stand. Seeming to still be looking out over the river. Her mouth working.

  “Lydia,” Candace whispered.

  Lydia slowly turned, her mouth still working but silent. A small neat hole wept blood down the front of her shirt. Her chest hitched and her eyes fluttered.

  Tom lunged to his feet, his eyes dazed, and ran to her, catching her as she slumped forward. Her eyes flickered once more as he eased her to the ground.

  A small tight smile came to her mouth. “Killed me,” she wheezed. Her eyes closed, and her chest stopped its struggle for breath.

  ~

  The silence seemed to go on forever as Mike and Janet waited. Sudden gunfire erupted in the distance again. Janet moaned and Mike pulled her closer to him. “Ssss alright,” Mike told her. “Alright.” He didn’t believe it anymore than he had the last time he’d said it. The burst of gunfire came and went just that quickly, and then silence fell hard on the still morning air.

  Janet held herself rigidly. Mike could feel her tremble against him. He patted her head. A stupid, useless, meaningless thing to do, he told himself, but he continued nonetheless, patting her head and stroking her hair. Useless, but if nothing else, it seemed to help calm him.

  He drew a deep breath, and the radio squawked. “Mike?” Bob asked.

  Mike took a deep breath and swallowed hard before he trusted his voice to answer. Jan let go of her breath in a deep whoosh and drew in a long, deep shuddering breath. Mike stroked her hair once more.

  “Yeah,” Mike answered quietly.

  “It’s bad,” Bobs voice broke as he spoke. “It’s bad, Mike. It’s bad.”

  In his head Mike could already hear the words he didn’t want to hear. He had heard everyone’s voice except Candace’s. It only stood to reason… Still, he didn’t want to hear it.

  “It’ll be okay,” Jan told him. She pulled him tight. Her own hands trying to pull his head against her breast. “Mike… It’ll be okay.”

  “It’s Lydia,” Bob said. His voice choked with emotion.

  “Candace?” Mike asked. He hated himself for asking. He hated the weakness in his voice. How could it be Lydia, he asked himself. I just heard her voice. How could it be?

  “I’m here, Babe,” Candace said through the crackle of static. Behind her voice they could hear what sounded like sobbing. The sobbing came across clearly as she stopped talking. “We’re on our way back… We’re coming back… It’s over,” Candace said. She held on to the button for a split second longer, the smooth silence spitting quietly, then the radio in Mike's hand went back to solid static once more.

  ~

  “Be careful, Honey. Be careful.” Mike's voice came through the radio in her hand. She nodded, and then keyed the button, “I will. We’re coming back.” She looked around her.

  Tom sat cradling Lydia in his arms. Bright, thick blood covered the ground under her chest and the side of Tom's pant leg. The three other bodies lay close by. Bob stood, ashen faced, his gun still held tightly in one hand.

  The pickup truck idled noisily about a hundred yards away from where Candace stood. The doors hung open. The Suburban and the State truck rumbled from behind her. Maybe, she thought, five minutes had passed since they had spotted the truck and stopped behind them. The kids had come out shooting. Just like in the movies, Candace thought. Exactly that. Hell! They had acted like it was a movie. Five minutes and four people dead. She shook her head slowly.

  Tom looked up from the ground and met Candace’s eyes.

  “Let’s get her in the truck, okay, Tom,” She said softly.

  Tom's head slowly nodded.

  “What… what about these… these others?” Bob asked.

  “Fuck them,” Tom rasped. “Fuck them! They can rot right there. They’re not going in the truck!” He looked at Candace defiantly.

  “Okay,” Candace agreed. “Okay… Bob?” She waited until Bob's eyes left Lydia’s body. “Help Tom with Lydia?”

  Bob nodded and started towards Tom

  “No,” Tom said quietly. “Don’t need help.” He swiped a blood covered hand across his eyes, leaving a bright smear of scarlet across his forehead as he did. “I’ll do it. I’ll take care of her.” His voice shook at the last, but he got to his feet, carefully holding Lydia in his arms, and headed for the pickup truck.

  “Bob,” Candace said, motioning to the bodies.

  Bob looked at her questioningly.

  “In the river. We can’t just leave them here.”

  Bob nodded, and together they bent to pick up the first body.

  A few minutes later Candace let the last body slip from her hands and plunge over the cliffs and into the river far below. She turned her palms upright and stared at them for a second.

  “Candace,” Bob said. She nodded, and followed Bob to the truck.

  Tom sat behind the wheel, Lydia slumped on the passenger seat, her head resting against Tom's shoulder. “You okay to drive?” she asked.

  Tom nodded. His eyes met her own. They were red, and tears perched on the bottom lids waiting to spill down his cheeks. He cleared his throat, started to speak and then cleared hi
s throat once more. “I’m going to drive out of the city. There’s a small little place out by Huntingtonville. My parents were raised there. There’s a cemetery there...” He trailed off, and Candace saw the tears that had been perched on his lower lid begin to course their way down his cheeks. He started to speak again, shook his head and gave up momentarily. Candace turned her eyes up to the clear blue morning sky and waited. Tom’s voice came to her quietly a few minutes later as she watched the empty sky.

  “There’s a shed… In the Cemetery… I thought.” His voice choked up again.

  “Yeah. Yeah,” Candace said softly. “You go. We’ll stop and get Jan and Mike. They’ll want to be there.”

  Tom nodded. His hand fell to the shift lever on the steering column. His eyes, tear-filled and overflowing, swept up to her once more.

  “You’ll be okay to get there?” Candace asked.

  Tom nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. He turned his eyes back to the road.

  Candace nodded. “We’ll meet you there.” She stepped away from the truck and watched as Tom pulled slowly away.

  Mike ~ March 15th

  It’s been a very long day in more ways than one. We are five now. Lydia is gone. It’s crazy, but true. Tom is in bad shape, sitting by the fire reading Lydia’s diary.

  We buried her today in Huntingtonville, a little place outside of the city. There’s a cemetery there right by the river. Tom's parents are buried there. Now Lydia is too. It took a lot of work; the ground is still frozen a few feet down. It could’ve been worse. If everything wasn’t melting, we would’ve had a much harder time digging the hole. Tom couldn’t bring himself to do it. Bob and I did it.

  To make the explanation short, we were ambushed. I shouldn’t say we. I wasn’t even there. Neither was Jan. We were left behind to watch the cave.

  It started in the night; these kids came and stole one of our trucks. We didn’t know they were kids of course. It turned into mess. Three kids are dead. Young kids. What a waste. We don’t even know why they did it, why they chose to shoot at the others. None of it.

  Everyone is messed up, me included. Jan too, because we weren’t there. But it’s over. This part’s over, but really it’s not over at all. I don’t know what’s next. None of us do. The day has already lasted fifteen hours so far. The sun doesn’t seem to be moving at all. We don’t know what to make of it. Everyone just wants to get past this day, for it to be over.

  Lydia ~ March 15th

  Lydia is gone. They took her. I can’t believe it, it’s like a nightmare. I can’t deal with it. I won’t forget it. Tom.

  ~Huntingtonville~

  The moon rode high in the sky. Frost gleamed from the freshly turned dirt that lay scattered across the gravel of the road that lead into the cemetery. Silence held, and then a scraping came from the ground, muffled, deep.

  At the edge of the woods, eyes flashed dully in the over-bright moonlight. Shapes shifted among the trees and then emerged from the shadows onto the gravel roadway. One dragged a leg as he walked, clothes already rotted and hanging in tatters. A second seemed almost untouched, a young woman, maybe a little too pale in the wash of moonlight. She walked as easily as any woman, stepping lightly as she went. The third and fourth moved slower, purposefully, as they made their way to the freshly turned soil. They stopped beside the grave, and silence once again took the night, no sounds of breathing, no puffs of steam on the cold night air.

  “Do you think...?” The young woman asked in a whisper.

  “Shut up,” the one with the dragging leg rasped. His words were almost unintelligible. His vocal cords rotted and stringy. The noises came once again from the earth and the four fell silent... waiting...

  Her hand broke through into the moonlight. A few minutes later her head pushed up, and then she levered her arms upward and began to strain to pull herself up and out of the hole. She noticed the four and stopped, her pale skin nearly translucent, her blond hair tangled and matted against her face and neck. Her lips parted, a question seeming to ride on them.

  “It's okay,” the young woman whispered, “it's okay.” She and one of the older ones moved forward, fell to their knees and began to scoop the dirt away from her with their hands.

  “It'll be okay,” Lydia mumbled through her too cold lips.

  “It will. It will,” the young woman repeated.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  More Is More

  ~ March 16th ~

  Mike sat quietly on a small pile of brick outside of the cave entrance and watched the sun come up. Forty-three hours from sunrise to sunrise. It made no sense at all, at least not to him.

  The air was warm, not warming, but warm, and a heavy haze hung on the horizon where the sun was beginning to rise. Northwest still, but it didn’t seem as far to the west as it had been just a few days before.

  We need something to track that, he thought. And then, maybe not. After all, what good would it do to know if it was a little more to the East or the West or whatever?

  His thoughts were broken by a soft step beside him. He turned as Candace came up beside him carrying two mugs of hot coffee. She handed him one of the mugs and then settled beside him.

  “Thank you,” Mike said. She smiled back and then blew lightly at the hot coffee in her mug. Steam lifted off the rim of the cup as she did.

  “How long?” She asked finally, and then took a small sip.

  “Forty-three… Give or take a few minutes.” He kissed her lightly on one cheek.

  “What was that for?” She asked with a smile.

  “Because I wanted to,” Mike told her. He blew on his own coffee and then took a small sip.

  “You okay?” she asked in a more serious tone. Her eyes met his.

  “Yeah. It… I don’t think it’s sunk in yet.” She nodded.

  “It’s like,” he continued, “when my parents were killed. I knew it. I accepted it as well as I could, but there was really no time to process it… or, maybe I refused to process it. Anyway, it was years later before I ever really dealt with it. That’s what this reminds me of. Someday, once this all settles down, we’ll process it. Until then, I think we’re just on cruise control.”

  “What was it?” She asked softly.

  “Car accident. It was fast... for them anyway.” He seemed sad thinking about it.

  “My mother died a few years ago. My dad right after her. They were older when they had me. Hard life… Bad genes. Heart attacks for both of them,” she finished quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” Mike said. “It must have been hard.”

  Candace nodded. “So I know about the taking the time to process it later thing. I don’t think I’ve dealt with all of it yet. And this,” She lifted her eyes and swept them across the sky, the river, the rocks, the road that ran past the cave and the cliffs that rose on the other side of the river. Her eyes settled on the sunrise. “This isn’t over by a long shot. Who knows how or when it will end? I guess we’ll deal with what we can and keep the rest moving, you know?”

  “Yeah. They were just kids though… even Lydia,” Mike said.

  Candace nodded. “But they weren’t sweet little innocent kids. I’ve seen gang bangers all of my life. I grew up with that. It’s really a way of life. Sometimes, for some kids, it’s the only way of life there is. I ran myself for a while.” She frowned.

  “All I’m saying is, they weren’t sweet little innocent kids. And, believe me, nothing you could’ve said, had you been there, would’ve changed anything. Believe me. I tried to talk to one of them. No good. And the other one I shot didn’t even bother to try talking.”

  Mike nodded, took an experimental sip from his mug, then a longer satisfying drink. “I see it,” he said. “This city has a lot of drugtrade what with the base so close by. I’ve never been in a gang or knew what one was really about until I was introduced to that life in Rochester as a kid. When I came back here, I saw more and more of it. Now it’s everywhere you look.” He seemed startled for a moment. “Was...
Was everywhere you looked,” he added thoughtfully.

  “There is still good in the world. This didn’t just take the good people and leave the bad,” Candace said. She took another long sip from her coffee. Her eyes met Mike's own; he leaned over and kissed her lips softly. She smiled and took the coffee mug from his hands, set it down, took his hands and pulled him to his feet.

  “Come on,” she said and kissed him once more. Mike kissed her back and pulled her body closer to him. His hands encircled her waist and rested on her hips. Her tongue probed gently as her own hands found the back of his head. She drew back, giggled and then pulled him toward the river and the screening growth of trees and bushes farther down the road.

  ~

  March sixteenth, Mike thought, would always be remembered as the day that didn’t quite happen. The sun never really rose. A half light lit the sky for the next forty-two hours, but the sun itself never made an appearance through the thick, black clouds that blocked off the sky from horizon to horizon, dark and moving swiftly across the skies.

  The sun seemed to creep around the perimeter of the horizon from the West where it first appeared, to the East where it finally sank, setting the sky on fire with it’s pink-red light only to fade away without ever actually rising.

  The air became warmer throughout the day, and what little snow remained melted away. Everyone noticed a queasy feeling in their stomachs, and a few commented on feeling something similar a few weeks back right after the first earthquakes had hit.

  As the day wore on, a fine gray ash began to fall from the skies. The skies grew even darker as the ash fell down faster, like dirty snow.

  After several hours, the landscape around the cave looked as though everything was covered with a thick coat of dust. Everyone fashioned cloths around their mouths to avoid breathing in the thick haze of ash.

  The ash was followed by a slow dirty rain that turned the piles of ash into a slushy, runny kind of mud, and just before the sun finally fell in the East, the rain began to fall harder, the air turned cold, then colder still, and lightening began to stab at the gray and sullen skies above the cave.