~
“Going to have to cut through part of the city,” Beth said a few moments later.
Billy looked up from the map as the truck rolled to a stop. “A river.”
“Probably a canal...” Beth said. “Either way we can't drive over it... Does it break anywhere?” She turned the truck and began to run along the side of the canal heading for the city once more. In the distance several fires burned, but the fires seemed to be a few mile distance, nothing close. “Like a housing development or something,” Beth said a few minutes later as the truck bumped up onto a road that was paralleled by a brick wall. The wide concrete gutter was bone dry, the pavement smooth after so much time in the desert
“Not on the map...” He shrugged. “I just don't know, Beth.”
Beth had stopped on the edge of the housing development. It was dark, lit only by the headlights of the truck. Cars and trucks sat neatly in driveways. The streets were empty. Heavy dust seemed to blanket the whole scene. Little trails cut from place to place.
“Fucking spooky,” Billy said. “Volcanic ash?”
“Probably... What do you think the trails are?”
Billy frowned. “It has to be dead.”
“It doesn't have to be dead... Could be small animals raiding house to house... No garbage any more so they have to get into those houses and get what they can or starve... Or it could be the dead.”
“Great, you had me ha...”
Something hit the truck hard and it rocked on its springs. The smell of death hit them about the same time, and Beth hit the gas, mashing the pedal into the floor boards.
A rotting hand came through the open back window and fastened around Beth's throat, her hands left the wheel as she was yanked backwards, and the truck spun hard to the left and accelerated, her foot still mashed on the gas.
Billy lifted his gun and shot the zombie in the face. It seemed slow motion at first, the face exploded as it fell away into the back of the pickup, Beth drew a deep breath and tried to grab the wheel, but it was too late. Everything sped up to real time and the truck roared forward and slammed into the side of a house, continuing into it. Her foot had slammed down on the brake and the truck finally stopped several feet into the house.
Billy hit the dashboard hard and then rebounded, sliding under the dash as the truck plunged into the house. Seconds later he scrambled out from under the dash, the smell of gasoline was strong, the smell of the hot motor equally strong. He looked over at Beth but she seemed dazed, her eyes unfocused, a trickle of blood running from somewhere under her hairline, mumbling softly under her breath. Billy levered his door open with a little help from his foot, it screeched as it opened. The screech of metal was very loud in the silence of the house. The headlights were still on, illuminating what looked to be a kitchen.
The smell of death came to him over the smell of gas and hot motor.
“Jesus, Beth. Jesus. We got to go,” Billy said loudly. He reached down, gabbed Beth's rifle where it had fallen to the floor and then shoved his gun into his holster. He was surprised he had the presence of mind to actually pull the strap over the hammer and snap it in place to hold the gun in. He reached over and pulled Beth to him, she came willingly and he bent slightly as he took her over his shoulder. A second later he was outside the ruined truck and staring out the hole it had punched through into the house. He saw no dead, but he could smell them. He debated only briefly and then ran for the hole and the moonlit night outside.
The dead were all around, pulled from their wanderings by the sound of the wreck and the smell of the living. Billy shifted Beth's weight more fully onto his shoulder, and lifted the gun. Before he could fire, the truck blew up behind him and he felt himself pushed by the blast out into the street where he struggled to stay on his feet. A warm rush or air moved rapidly past him and Billy got his feet moving only a second later.
The dead scattered. They made this odd clicking sound, a sort of strangled scream, which Billy supposed was all they could do with no air to move their lungs, as he ran they slowly disappeared into the hiding paces they had stumbled from. An SUV loomed out of the darkness, illuminated by the flames and the moonlight. Dusty, sitting in the driveway of a house three houses over from the one they had plowed into. A second later and Billy had the door open and Beth tumbled inside onto the passenger seat. He ran around the car to the other side and fired a quick burst at three of the dead that came from the side of the garage and started toward him in their stumbling, dragging way. They all three went down, but they were back up again almost as quickly as they had gone down. He was too far away for head shots. He got the handle open and jumped into the car pulling the door shut behind him.
He sat, his breath coming in ragged gasps and pulls. His lungs hurt, there was a stitch in his side and his heart felt like it just might explode at any second. He looked over at Beth, but her head was rocked back against the seat back. A sob escaped his throat, but he bit down on it, breathing hard, he checked the ignition.
No keys, but that was what he had expected. What he hoped for was gas. The car should start, the gas was the important thing. He reached to the floorboards for his knapsack and a screwdriver to jimmy the ignition and that was when he realized he had nothing to get the truck started with. All he needed was a screwdriver to hammer into the ignition, pop the cylinder, and then start it. But he had neither the screwdriver nor a way to get it into the ignition in the first place. He fisted his hands and slammed them against the wheel. His head sank onto his hands.
“Smash it,” Beth said. It was not much more than a whisper, but it bought Billy's head up fast. Outside the truck the dead were gathering. Just three or four, but they could smell them, and it wouldn't be long until more showed up. He focused on her face which was ashen and blood slicked, unsure if she had really even spoken. She turned her face to him, eyes heavy lidded, unfocused. “Smash it, Billy... Rock... Rocks by the driveway... Saw them... Smash it.” Her head sank down to the dashboard and stayed there. A trickle of blood ran across the dusty plastic and rolled toward the edge of the dash before it slipped over the edge and continued down into darkness.
“Jesus, Beth. You're hurt bad, Beth.”
“Billy... Billy shut up and get a rock... Get it, Billy. Stop whining, get the fuckin' rock.” Beth told him. Her words were muffled, whether from the effort or the position she was in he couldn't tell. He picked up the rifle by the barrel and looked through the glass at the dead that were trying to figure out a way into the truck. He waited for the one near the driver's door to slip backwards along the side of the SUV and then he threw the door open and jumped from the truck.
He landed bad, on the very same rocks Beth had been talking about, and nearly went all the way down before he caught himself and slammed his knee into the pavement to stop himself. He had been unable to close the door as his ankle twisted and he fell away. The one that had just slipped past the door was already turning to get inside. He couldn't shoot, if he did he might hit Beth. He launched himself at the shambling wreck instead and knocked it backwards and to the ground. They were both snarling he realized a moment later when he shot it in the head.
A second one came around the back of the SUV. Billy took two steps and shot it in the head. The third was on the opposite side of the truck and seemed frozen, unsure what to do. Billy turned, picked up a large rock, and tried to step back into the truck. The ankle collapsed and he went sprawling, losing the rock, barely holding onto the rifle as he once again slammed his knee into the ground to stop himself from planting his face on the steel door sill of the car. The zombie on the other side made up her mind, stood to her full height, and sprang to the roof of the car. Billy heard the metal buckle as she landed.
A second later he forced himself to his feet, adrenaline flooding his body, leaving that sour electric taste in his mouth as it did. The zombie stood to her full height once more, nothing but tightly stretched skin and protruding bones, but determined to have him. Billy raised the rifle
and shot her under the chin. She collapsed on the barrel and he turned as she spilled past him and burst open onto the pavement behind him. Billy took two shambling steps of his own, ankle and knee screaming, pain so hard that it made him stop and double up. He vomited, losing control for a brief instant. The pain was so hot. A second after that the adrenaline kicked back in and he finished his shambling travel, managed to stoop and pick up another large rock and get back inside the SUV. He slammed the door on the hand of another zombie that had come out of the darkness. He heard the bones snap, and the fingers fell away into the SUV as the door thudded home. Billy collapsed against the steering wheel. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. He waited for his heart to slow down.
The dead seemed to be everywhere when he lifted his eyes a few seconds later. One was inches away, staring into his own eyes through the glass. Dozens of others milled about as if waiting to be told what to do. His heart staggered once more, and the rifle was coming up before he realized he could do nothing. He lowered the gun and raised the rock that was still clutched in one hand. He smashed it down on the cheap plastic that surrounded the ignition built into the side of the steering column.
Outside the zombies went crazy. Sounds did that to them, but to Billy it was almost as if they knew he was about to escape. The one next to the window stepped back and cocked its head. Billy looked back at the column, smashed the rock down again and the pieces of the ignition fell to the floorboards of the SUV. A splinter of plastic cut his hand as he jammed his fingers into the opening and pushed down into the hole the cylinder had once occupied. It took a second to find what he was searching for, but once he found it his finger pressed down and the motor began to turn over. At nearly the same time the zombie dropped from sight outside the window.
The motor coughed to life just as the zombie shot up with a rock in its rotting hands and smashed it down on the glass. Billy let out an involuntary scream as the rock skittered across the glass and flew across the hood. The zombie did it's odd little scream and then fell out of sight once more. Billy slammed his hand forward, caught the shift lever and yanked it down into reverse. His foot was already mashing the gas pedal down, the engine was revving and so when the zombie came back up with yet another rock the front slammed into him as Billy spun the wheel, and the car began to race backwards, turning as it went. The zombie and several behind it flew away from the side of the car, the wheels hopped as it bounced over them and then caught. The car rocketed out into the street. Billy locked the brakes up to get it stopped and nearly stalled it as it ground to a stop. A second later he dropped it into drive and plowed through a group of a dozen or more of the dead as he fumbled for the headlight switch and roared off down the road.
The dead flew up over the hood. One smashed into the glass hard enough to spiderweb it as they hit and then tumbled over the roof. He could hear them bumping as they slammed into the roof and fell into the night behind them. A few seconds later and all he could hear was the scream of the motor as he accelerated down the street. He forced himself to slow down so he didn't wreck. Beth was holding onto the dashboard in a death grip.
The truck left the pavement and flew out into the desert once more. Billy mashed down the pedal a little more and began to put some space between themselves and the housing project. He reached over and pulled Beth away from the dashboard. She rocked back into the seat, her eyes closed, blood still running from under her hairline and slicking her face.
East of Phoenix
Billy and Beth
The moon was fully up. The desert seemed almost as if it were lit with streetlights to Billy. He had found a dirt road and followed it to a concrete building that was part of a complex of buildings. The place didn't look like it had much going for it. A collection of buildings in the desert. A few trucks sitting around. Company trucks of some sort, painted the same colors but no name on them. He passed through the complex slowly on the dirt road that fed it. Nothing. He turned and drove through it more slowly. Nothing again.
Billy stared out into the night. The moon was moving past the halfway point, there wouldn't be much of the night left. He looked over at Beth where she sat, head back, breathing slowly. At some point the bleeding had stopped. He looked back around at the buildings. Maybe ten, unless he had miscounted. A dozen trucks and cars sat around buildings. A large building that was probably a garage, or at least appeared to be. Doors down. A side door, closed. He drove slowly, circling the building. A back door, also closed. Maybe, he thought, if it had been closed from the start nothing had been in there.
Billy pulled back out front of the building, shifted the SUV into park and left it running. The door was fifteen feet away. He reached over, pushed the button on the glove box and let it fall open. He pawed through insurance papers, candy bars, those would come in handy later, maybe, and a half bottle of water. There was a small flashlight on a key chain. No keys on the chain. Probably no battery in the flashlight either, Billy thought, but when he pushed the click button on top of the small aluminum flashlight it shot a bright beam that lit up the inside of the truck and nearly made him blind to the night before he clicked it back off. He waited a second and then leaned across to Beth.
“Beth... Beth I got to go... Beth?” Nothing. Her breathing didn't change and it scared Billy more than the attack by the zombies had. He sighed, fingered the safety on the rifle to make sure it was off, and then stepped from the truck.
The door chuffed closed behind him. Nearly silently. Silence, or at least it seemed silent for a moment. The desert wind reached his ears, just a soft rising and falling of sound as it slipped around the buildings. Nothing else. He made himself search the entire area once more with his eye and then he walked to the door, took one more look back at the SUV and then turned the knob and stepped inside the building.
Billy stood in the darkness and listened to the wind slip around the metal building. His hand skittered along the wall and found the light switch. He flicked it before he had thought about it. Old habits died hard, he told himself. The click was overly loud in the darkness and made him jump. He forced his heart to slow down and then breathed deep. There was death here, but it was old death. Not the smell of the zombies. He breathed in deeply once more to be sure.
The building was much more than a garage. There was a garage area to pull trucks into. One sat inside now, two large rolls of fencing in the back and dozens of long steel fence posts. He had seen them before. About seven or eight feet long with a sharp steel cross piece at the bottom to drive into the ground. A sledge hammer to the top to drive it down into the earth and you had a fence post. He stepped forward toward a glassed in room just past the truck. A lunchroom or sorts he guessed, or a break room. Vending machines lined the walls and three tables sat in the middle of the room with plastic chairs scattered about them. Empty.
Off to the left a steel door separated another area. He was beginning to panic about Beth. He had been gone a long time, but he forced himself to twist the knob on the door. It led to a hallway. A small office, bathrooms, and the door that lead outside. He walked to the door and locked it. There was a glass wall that looked into the office and his eye caught something he had missed as he walked past. There was a chair that had been pulled over to a window that looked out on the desert. A man sat in that chair.
Billy's heart leapt into his throat, but only for a second. The man was dead. He had been dead for some time. A gun rested in his lap, his head cocked at an odd angle. Billy backtracked to the door, opened it and stepped inside.
The odor was not that bad, but it was what he had smelled. The dead smelled differently once they rose to their new life. That was all he knew. It wasn't something he could definitely put his finger on, just a different smell of corruption. Billy reached the chair and stared down at the man.
He had dried out in the heat of the desert. Billy grabbed the armrest closest to him and dragged the chair from the office and out into the garage. He rolled it up to the doors and looked them over. Electric, but
they could be manually raised and closed. Probably a nod toward electricity that might not always be available in the desert. Billy pulled on the chains that dropped from the ceiling and the door went up, squeaking as it went. He pushed the chair out across the cracked pavement and left it close to one of the other buildings. The SUV rumbled close by, the motor turning over smoothly. He could see Beth, head back against the seat back. A minute later he drove the truck into the garage and then worked the chains, lowering the door down once more.
East of Phoenix
Northland Cemetery
The moon rode high in the sky. Moonlight gleamed from 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 a dirt mounded grave, and silence once again took the night, no sounds of breathing, no puffs of steam on the cold desert 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, no air in his lungs to move his words. The noises came once again from the earth and the four fell silent... waiting...
A hand broke through into the moonlight. A few minutes later a young woman's 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.
Harlem March 15th
“What I care about is how it goes,” Madison said. “Things are goddamn crazy...” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Cammy, these guys intend to run things here... Right here!”
“Never happen,” Cammy said. Her eyes slid past Madison and found Dollar where he stood with the curtains barely opened, looking out into the street. One gun stuffed into the back of his jeans, the other out and in his hand where he flicked the safety on and off, on and off as he peeked through the curtains at every new gunshot. There had been running gunfights most of the day. He was crazy and getting crazier as the time rolled by.
“I know... Which is why we need to go... When it fails they'll come here and kill all of us,” she whispered.
Dollar's head suddenly appeared over Cammy's shoulder. “And what are you bitches whispering about?” His eyes were wild. He had access to as much cocaine as he wanted and he had been shoveling it in for the last few days, unsure of how much he wanted: How much his body could handle. Where to draw the line, or even if there was a line he should draw. He scared the hell out of Madison, and it took a lot to scare Madison.
“Shit women talk about,” Madison spat. She pushed Cammy away, got up and got right in Dollar's face. “We need shit, and I already told you. I'm going to get it.”
“Go and I'll shoot you dead,” Dollar said. He waved the gun in her face.
“You know what, I don't think you will,” Madison bluffed. “And, anyway, we're not leaving, we're just going to get some things... Lady things... Then we'll be back... You really gonna kill me over some shit like that?”
“What things?”
“Tampons.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Dollar said.
Madison laughed.
“I don't want to hear that shit. That's woman’s shit. I don't want to hear it at all.”
“Yeah, dip-shit. I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn't let us go, and now it's critical... Crit-it-cal! So unless you want us bleeding all over the place.” She was still in his face. Inches away.
Dollar stared at her. “I can't fucking believe you said that. That's... That's way too much information.” He spun quickly toward the front windows as the crash of nearby gunfire broke the silence of the street. “You go out there you'll get killed.”
“Yeah, well, we'll go the back way. Either way we're going,” Madison said. Her hand moved fast, fished the pistol that was jammed into the back of his pants, behind the belt, out, and then stepped back away before Dollar realized what had happened and spun around.
“And I said...” Dollar started as he turned around. “Wow.” He froze and stared at the gun that had appeared in Madison's hand like so much magic. “Now why did you take my gun?” he asked. His empty hand felt along the back of his jeans where he was sure the gun had come from. He stuffed the gun in his hand into the waistband of his jeans. This time in front. Madison laughed.
“That is not the question you should be asking,” Madison said.
“No? Then what is the question I should be asking, Bitch?” Dollar asked. He began to walk towards her. “I bet you ain't got no period either... Neither of you... Just said that to keep me away, I bet.”
Madison laughed. “Well, you're right. But that isn't where we were in this conversation. Where we were was the question... You...” She pulled the slide back on the Automatic, chambering a round. “...should...” Her thumb swept downward and clicked the safety off, “...be asking me. The question, and you're not asking it.”
Dollar stopped in his tracks. “Don't fuck around, Girl. That ain't no toy.”
“The question, you dumb fuck! The question,” Madison screamed. She pushed the pistol into his face.
“Okay! Okay! The fucking question... The fucking question...” Dollar shrank back, but bumped into the wall and stopped. “I don't know the question... I don't know it.”
“Will she do it,” Madison said. “Will the crazy bitch shoot me.”
Dollar's eyes squinted. Madison waved the gun up and down. His hand darted for his own gun where he had stuffed it into the front waistband of his jeans.
“Yes she will.” Madison yelled as she fired. Dollar was falling before she finished yelling her answer. A second later, as Dollar gasped for air, laying on his side, his knees drawn up, a sucking sound coming from the hole in his chest, Madison reached down, caught Cammy's hand, and they both fled toward the back of the apartment, and the door that lead into the alleyway.
Donita and the boy
She had made the boy a few days before. She had been heading out of another city when she had found him and his mother. The mother had given in with no fight. Donita had considered her for her army, but then rejected her. Perhaps if she had fought, maybe. But it seemed to not be a part of who she was. And Donita could not take the chance that she would evolve into a non fighter. It was not something she needed.
The boy's changing was slow, but it was happening She had thought about it before she had done it. The young would be useful. The willing... The powerful... But there was no way to convince them to this side, and so it would have to be the young at first. They were more easily subdued. They could grow into it. They would still change. Still become powerful. But they would be much easier for her to control while they did.
Once she had more than the boy she would have help. No longer would it be only her. She could see the way it would be. Not the way her old self saw, but this new way. This new way of knowing that had nothing to do with anything inside of her. Nevertheless, it was solid. Real. She could and did trust the knowledge that came to her. She would have her army, it would only take time.
March 17th (Late)
New York:
Bear:
Bear was curled up on the carpet, Amanda Bynes' carpet, where he had been for hours. Whatever had gon
e wrong with the world had gotten worse.
It had started yesterday with wind that was like a hurricane. It had blown into the city and the rain had not been far behind it. Heavy rains, torrential rains. He had been in Mobile Alabama one year, waiting on a train to go back to New York. A hurricane was closing in. It had hit the city a glancing blow and it had seemed the same as this. Heavy rain, the wind so hard it seemed to roar.
Then the lightening had come, and the thunder. Huge bolts. Deafening. Then there was a bad earthquake. The entire building shook and he was convinced it would go down. Believed it had to. How could it stand through that? But it had.
He had begun to get sick shortly after that, vomiting until there was nothing left, and still his stomach had not been satisfied. He still dry heaved for hours it seemed.
The night went on and on, seemed to last forever. It was like the sun just decided not to rise the next day. Or the next day never came. He didn't know which, anymore than he knew what day it really was now.
There was sunlight. Sparse, barely there but he could see through the sliding glass doors to the balcony. It seemed to be covered with dirty snow. Mounds of it. He closed his eyes: Squeezed them tightly, and rolled up into a sitting position. His stomach threatened again, but he waited it out. Once he felt he could walk he got to his feet and walked to the glass doors and slid them open.
The entire world was gray. Ash was falling, blocking out the sunlight. The sun was like a silver disc, barely seen, riding the horizon. As he watched, the ash began to drift in onto the carpet. He closed the door and stood staring.
His stomach had calmed down, whatever had been the cause of that, he was grateful it was easing. He didn't feel like putting anything on it, in fact the thought alone brought back the queasiness, but left alone it seemed as though it would be fine.
The day went on. The sun seemed to slide across the horizon rather than actually rise. The rains came back hard and the winds with them. In no time the ash was washed away and the city was back. Clean... Fresh looking. No dead to be seen in the driving rain. Apparently they didn't like the rain either.
Although he was positive he could not sleep, he drifted into sleep later in that day, lying on Amanda Bynes' carpet, watching the rain fall in sheets and wash across the glass.
FIVE
March 18th
Billy and Beth
She awoke with a gasp and sat upright. The movement caused pain to flare inside her head and her hands flew to either side of it as if to hold the pain inside.
“Here,” Billy said from beside her. “Drink this... Coffee.” He handed her the paper cup.
“Oh my God... Billy, my head is killing me,” Beth moaned. She sat carefully for a few seconds longer, holding her head steady, before edging open one eye and looking around her. The blanket that had been covering her slipped down and she reached for it unconsciously, catching it before it could slip off and onto the floor.
She was laying on a table, soft blankets beneath her, her top had been stripped off. Her bra was stiff with dried blood. “Jesus,” she said softly.
“Come on, Beth. Drink the coffee, and,” He held out his other hand. “Aspirin... At least I think it's aspirin. Some off-brand, but it'll help that headache.”
Beth tried a small smile on her face, took the aspirin and the coffee and managed to get the aspirin down.
“Billy, that really is coffee. Bad coffee, but real coffee.” Beth said. Her eyes were traveling around the room. Vending machines, including a coffee machine with the front pried off.
“There was the powder that it's made from inside... I just liberated it and made it over a fire.” He turned and pointed back through the glass into a garage are where she could see he had dragged a stove of some kind and hooked it up to some bottled propane. The small cook surface looked funny with the giant propane cylinder next to it. Billy laughed. “Yeah... Not exactly made for each other, but it's good enough.”
Beth looked Billy up and down. He was dressed in clean clothes. “Where did you go shopping,” she asked as she sipped at the coffee. She swung her legs off the table and a wave of dizziness swept over her. Her stomach clenched and for a moment she was sure the coffee and aspirin was on its way back up, after a short battle it decided to stay. For how long she didn't know, but she did know she had to take it slower.
“Slow, Beth,” Billy said as if he had looked into her mind and stolen her words.
“Got you... Got you,” Beth agreed.
“Clothes in the back, Beth. Lockers. I'm guessing this was some sort of ranchers place... Maybe a big operation... Cattle? Crops? I don't know. Bags of fertilizer, fencing, overalls, gloves, trucks, and about thirty lockers back there, most with clothes still in them.”
Her fingers crept up her head and felt carefully under her hairline. “Are those stitches I feel?” She asked.
“Yeah,” Billy agreed. “Had to. Used dental floss and a needle. You never budged, scared me, Beth.”
“Well if I had moved I would probably have kicked you right in the sac...” She sighed, “Thanks, Billy... What happened... We were somewhere,” Her face clouded, but she could not bring the memory.
“That housing project?” Billy prompted.
“Nope,” Beth said.
“Nicer homes... Back toward Phoenix?”
“Nope,” Beth said again.
“We were running at night...”
“That I remember,” Beth agreed.
“Okay, so we stopped to check out this housing project. Like upscale houses out in the desert. It looked empty, but it was full of zombies. One got you through the window...”
Beth's hand went to her throat. It was bruised and yellowed in the bright light inside the room. Beth looked around and then up. The ceiling lights were on.
“Yeah... So you do remember,” Billy said.
“Yeah... Fuckers.” Her eyes went to the lights and then back to Billy's face. “So we got away.”
“Barely,” Billy agreed. He followed her eyes up to the lights. “Generator.” He stopped talking so she could hear it.
“Okay... So that's that sound,” Beth said. She cleared her throat, drank some more of the coffee and then cleared her throat again. “I didn't get bitten did I? You?”
“No... I would have done it if I had to, but no. They didn't get us.” Billy said.
“Would have killed me?” Beth asked.
Billy nodded.
“Billy, it's okay to say you would have... It wouldn't be me... It would be one of those things and I don't want to be one of those things, Billy.”
“I know... I would have killed it. No way would I have let you become that.” Billy swallowed hard and the silence fell, just the generator chugging away.
Beth eased her feet slowly to the floor and tested her weight. Better than earlier, but she decided to sit awhile longer. She drained the cup and Billy took it.
“You want more?” He asked.
“I need water, just plain old water.” She looked around hopefully.
“Got that. A water cooler. You can even have it cold with the power on.” He was back just a few moments later with a new cardboard cup, this one filled with cold water.
“God. Cold water in the desert. I would not have believed that,” Beth said.
“Yeah,” Billy agreed. “Not much longer though. There isn't much fuel oil. That's what it runs on. It was meant for short power outages. It's been on two days now.”
Beth choked on the water. Coughing bought the headache back, slamming into her forehead hard. She nearly passed out. Billy was right there, an arm around her, holding her. She took a breath, another, and she was alright again. She would just have to wait on the headache to retreat once more.
“Come on, Beth. Let me get you in a chair.” Before she could argue he picked her up and carried her to a nearby chair. Not one of the plastic ones scattered around, a leather one. Beat up, but comfortable. She sank back into the chair and immediately began to feel better. “Jesus, tw
o days here?”
“No. Three. It took a day to get the generator going. It wasn't designed to run after the initial time allotted. It would come on, run a while and shut right back off. I had to wire it directly. Maybe some safety feature so it wouldn't completely run out. I had to fill the tank from fifty five gallon drums, that was a bitch, but once I cut out the safety, filled her up, she started and stayed running. We're down to a quarter tank though... No more fuel oil... So I'm glad you're back.”
Beth upended the cup and drained it. It was amazing how good the water could make her feel. Like new life and strength being poured into her. Billy bought her another and then another before she sat back into the chair. Her eyes fell on a vending machine with crackers, cookies and bagged chips. The door was ajar. Billy followed her eyes.
He laughed. “Cookies, crackers, chips?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Beth said. Hunger had suddenly leapt up in her stomach. She was starved. Billy came back with a couple of packs of each and she ate greedily as he talked.
“Maps out in the garage. I can't tell exactly where we are though. Somewhere to the southwest of Gold Canyon is my guess. I didn't see anything here with an address on it, letterhead, no signs on the trucks. Nice trucks though, so it made money, whatever it was.”
“I'm going by where I think we are. I know we crossed over water before we got here, a bridge across a viaduct, at least it looked that way in the dark. But we didn't cross a highway, and 60 is right there, couldn't have missed it. Of course we could be a little farther north or a little more south. But even so we have to hit 60, it's right there, so I'm pretty sure the next thing up is going to be 60.”
Beth said nothing, the food was like heaven, but the crackers were a little dry so Billy left and came back with a cup of water and a Coke. The Coke was also cold. She nearly drained it in one pull. It was like her body was bent on a mission of replenishing itself in one setting. She made herself stop. “Good, but I don't want to get sick.” She said to Billy's raised eyebrows.
He nodded.
“Any dead... At night? In here when you got here?”
“One dude... Took himself out in the office.” He motioned through the glass. “Put him outside. Turned black in the sun in a day or so.” He stopped and cleared his throat, left and came back with a Coke for each of them. “None of the others. Not one. Nights are quiet... Truck inside the bay runs good. I gassed it up, swapped better tires onto it too from the rack in the garage. Pretty easy to do. Extra gas cans, oil, a shit load of those blankets.” He paused for a second.
“What,” Beth asked.
“The nights... Days... It's been a blur,” he looked up toward the ceiling, confused. “I don't know, it seemed like there was no day when there should have been... Like the night lasted a long time... Some earthquakes to, I think they were earthquakes at least. Sick... My stomach felt like it came unglued it was so bad.”He took a breath and smiled. “Rained like crazy and then I swear it snowed... It was like a blur,” He shrugged. “Like I said.”
Beth just looked at him. “You were tired.”
Billy smiled. “That's what I said... I said...” He looked at the ceiling again. “I said it was being tired... confused,” Billy agreed.
“You look... Clean.” She had looked down a few seconds before at her gore stained bra and jeans. She'd been in these clothes for far too long.
“Shower in the back. Hot water too once I got the electric on.”
“Christ, and I'm sitting here talking?” She stood from the chair, found her stomach did not intend to give her a hard time and turned to Billy. “Clothes?”
“Sure... I... I don't know if...” He turned red.
“Yeah,” Beth said. She laughed. “No bra, panties?”
“Right,” Billy agreed.
“Well I don't care if it's boxers, a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Clean clothes, Billy” She looked around her... Soap... A towel... That's it. Where is it?”
“Um. Right here,” Billy said as he stepped to the door and pushed it open for her.
Billy returned to the lunch room a few moments later and cleaned up the blankets and empty cups while he waited.
March 26th
Donita:
The hunger was terrible, all consuming, and it came in crashing waves. The impulse to feed seemed to be the only coherent thought she had. It was hard to think around, hard to think past. There were more things changing in her, and she did not understand them all.
A few weeks ago she had been... Been? But it did no good, she could not force the memory to come. A name came, Donita... she had been Donita, she knew that, but that was all she knew. And a name was not everything she had been. She had been something else... Something more, but she could not get to whatever it was that she had been. Something that did not wander through the woods. Something that was not driven by all consuming passions that she could not understand.
Her eyes wandered over her body. Her skin was tight, stretched across her bones, thin in places, but it was changing. It seemed to be growing thicker, changing texture. Her breasts with nothing more than suggestions, her stomach flat and sunken, except for a small rounded rise. It meant something to her but she didn't know what. She couldn't catch the significance.
She turned her eyes up to the moon. It pulled at her. Something in it spoke directly to something inside of her. Something deep. Something she believed had always been there, but there had never been a need to address because it lived under the surface. Out of her line of thought, sight... Below her emotions... Now it didn't. Now it ruled everything. It was all she could do not to rush from the trees and find the smell that tempted her and consume it. Eat it completely. Leave nothing at all. Oh to do it... To do it...
Her eyes snapped back from the moon and a low whine escaped her throat. Behind her the boy made a strangled noise in his throat. She turned, gnashed her teeth and growled. The thin, skeletal boy fell back, hungry, but frightened. She could feel his fear. It fed her, tempted her to taste him, but he was no food for her. She knew that much. It was a sort of instinct... Drive... Something inside of her. The boy was not her food. The boy was not her sustenance. He was one of her own. Corrupted. And corrupted flesh could not feed and sustain itself on corrupted flesh. Fresh flesh was needed, live flesh. Fresh Human flesh, she corrected. Whatever this change she was going through was, it scattered her thoughts. It left her confused more than it did not.
The boy trembled and grinned sickly, his one good eye rolling in his head. The other eye was a ruined mass of gray pulp sagging from the socket. A great flap of skin below that socket had curled and dried, hanging from the cheek. He felt at it now carefully with his shrunken fingers. She hissed at him and his hands fell away.
She desired human flesh. She needed it, but it didn't absolutely have to be that way.
Two nights ago it had been a rabbit, the night before that she and the boy had shared a rat. The night before that they had come upon an old woman.
The old woman had been good. They had bought her back here and her bones lay here still: In the weeds at the edge of the clearing behind them. She turned and gazed back past the boy into their makeshift campsite. Searching for what was left of the old woman. Finding her bones where they lay at the edge of the clearing they had made... She turned back to the moon, watched it as it slid across the sky for a few moments longer, then she stood and the boy followed her into the field. There was a town not far away. She could smell it. They would have to be careful on the way, there were others around. They fell into an easy lope, something these bodies seemed well suited to, and headed to the village to hunt.
She led the boy and herself into the small town. The town was empty, at least of people. She and the boy hunted rats for an hour or two. The rats had done well for themselves. Fat, sleek and gray. The size of a small dog. They had gorged themselves. The night made her feel alive, strong, whole. The boy followed and they hunted. Killed for the sake of killing, but it was good for the boy.
When morning came there was not a stray cat, dog or rat left alive in the small village and she was crazy with blood. They left the village, found an abandoned factory on the outskirts, and made their way into the dark depths as the sun began to rise.
Building The Army
She awoke before full dark. One second gone, the next twilight had released her and all of her senses were fully on. It was no longer like human senses. She couldn't truly remember any longer when she had been a breather, for how long, what she had done with her days and nights, but she regretted it. She wished she had always been numbered among the superior.
She thought of it that way, the Superior Race. Because these senses, they were completely there. There was no fogginess from the sleep. None. She was alert and ready. In every way the being she was now was far superior to the being she had been. Even though she could no longer precisely recall the being she had been, she knew it was true.
She reached over, touched the boy, and he was instantly out of twilight. Together they crawled from under the machinery and out onto the factory floor.
Her eyes bought her the scent of people. Without a sound or discussion she and the boy moved across the factory floor and out into the bright moonlight.
The smell of a wood fire was on the air, but the fire itself was out. Nothing but a low red glow some forty yards past the factory parking lot, still choked with long dead cars and trucks. They made their way quietly.
There were four sleeping close to the fire. One of them was old, useless to her. Two were young, and one was dangerous. Female. She slept with both hands around a rifle that rested between her knees, the barrel nestled alongside her face.
Donita looked at the woman for a long time. She would like to keep her, she was strong, she could be such an asset, but she knew it was not to be. She stared for a few seconds longer. The boy behind her, waiting.
She knelt beside the sleeping woman. The smell of her coming death was already a stink upon her. Billowing out of her lungs and filling up the night air. Her soul knew. Her soul knew and could do nothing at all about it.
Donita reached forward slowly. One hand wrapped tightly around the top of the barrel, the other, index finger extended, found the trigger. She paused a second longer, hands in place. Then in one smooth move she jerked the rifle down, jammed it under the woman’s chin and squeezed the trigger. The top of the woman's head flew apart before her eyes were fully open. The live wire rigidness that had come into her body in that split second of time now drained away and she sagged back to the ground, one last breath rushing from her lungs in a low moan. The children began to scream...