Controlling the Dead (5 page)

Exhaustion blurs my vision around the edges. I’d like nothing more than to lie down and sleep the past few days off, but I need to head to the community. I stare at the wandering putrid in a daze when more sluggish movement catches my eye about the same time a muffled groan cuts through the apartment walls.

“Shit.” I load up, slipping on my pack and gripping my machete, forgoing the crossbow. I probably won’t have the time to notch another arrow if there are too many zombies out there.

Scanning the living room from a safe spot, I conclude there is no immediate danger. Yet. The moans still sound muffled through the walls, and the apartment door is wide open. I might have enough time to get away without a zombie brawl, but I scan into the apartment complex hall anyway.

A hiss sounds in my face as hands latch onto my hoodie. My blood pounds as I see blood on its chin, telling me it has eaten before. Another zombie pushes behind the one attached to me, sending me sideways into the doorframe. Pain splinters up my side and my cracked vocals echoes through the hallway along with the clatter of my machete.

I regain my balance, pushing the zombie away. With the momentum from my shove, it crashes into the zombie behind it. I slip out, diving for the machete just in time to slash across the zombie’s throat as it lands on top of me. Thick blood dots my face, and I kick the zombie away. More of them filter through the hallway. Their moans send a wave of dread through me, but I manage to stand and keep an eye on the zombie that is now crawling and grunting through its own blood.

I use both guns and shoot my way out of the hallway, and climb on the motorcycle before my gunshots draw more.

*

The numbing wind whips across my face as I race down the highway. The combination of the chill and the vibration of the hog keep me awake. When I finally pull up to the community, I’m so tired, I don’t think about what I have to face.

There is one block, however, when I come to a locked gate. This is a new feature. I jolt awake when my pulse beats faster and a twitching starts in the pit of my stomach at the sight of the community’s familiar parking lot. Agatha, Rudy’s armored truck is there. My stomach dips upon seeing the Ducati and Jeep. The semi-truck full of supplies sits in the back. A lifetime has passed since I’ve been here, seems like it anyway.

Voices carry over from the courtyard, coming this way. Yells sound from Guido’s guards doing patrol on the rooftops. They salute me, like I never even left. The voices on the ground are now closer, the crunch of rocks draws my attention to them. The sound of the hog probably alerted them to me.

“Well, well! Lookie at whut them dead ‘ems dragged in!” A bright light clicks on in my face.

I blink it back, holding up my hands to ward it out of my eyes. “Is that really necessary?”

“No. Just needed ta believe whut I’m seein’, is all.”

“What’s with the gate?”

Jocko, one of Guido’s sidekicks, smiles wide while opening it and letting me through. I push walk the hog through the gate, and he answers, “Expansion. Guido wants ta see yew.”

Great. “Can it wait? I need some sleep.”

“No. Go there yerself, or I’ll drag you there.”

He grabs my arm, but I jerk away from him. With a quick pull, I hold my machete, still covered in dried zombie gore, to his neck. “Fine. Just keep your fucking hands off me.” Luckily, I need to talk to Guido myself. This reason is the only way I justify him telling me what to do.

“Whoa, sweethawt. Chill.” His hands are up in a calm-down gesture.

Sliding the machete into my pack, I push past him and ignore the whistling from the rooftops.

Standing in front of Guido’s loft door, I wait a minute before knocking. His loft overlooks the Clap Trap, which is in full swing party-mode, judging by the beat of the bass under my feet.

The door opens with a sweep and Guido’s eyes move up and down, taking in my appearance. “Well, how do yew do, chickie? Not good, I see.”

“I’m tired, Guido. And I have a question.” At least he is dressed in a button-up dress shirt and khaki pants. Not as flamboyant as he normally is when he wears clothes. He’s perpetually tan with tight curls on his head. Several gold chains adorn his neck, resting upon his thick chest hair.

“Whut a cowinky dinky. I do too.” He motions for me to sit on his off-white couch where he lounged for a foot rub the first time I had ever been in here. No famished art this time, fortunately for me. No hints of pot or cigar smoke, leaving the loft smelling like Old Spice. I toss my pack to the floor and sink into the couch. My limbs already feel heavier.

“Whut it be, chickie? I have a date.”

I raise my eyebrows at him and get straight to the point. “When is Mago due back here?” He eyes me a bit, and it gets me thinking he knows about Mago. He knew about Mago before we did, I’m sure of it.

“Anytime he wants money. He’s gots some problems, he do. Yew don’t worry ‘bout ‘im. He git here when he do.” I don’t see the point in Mago needing money. He doesn’t live here, doesn’t need anything from here. It’s something else. Whatever it is, Guido either doesn’t know about it or he isn’t going to share.

“What do you know about him?”

Guido tsks me. “Chickie, chickie, chickie. Yew say
a
question, not two. First, yew tell Guido ‘bout Mac?”

My stomach flips before I have time to be annoyed at his third person reference. He must have found out about Mac being here to keep an eye on things. Why wouldn’t he ask Mac about this himself? “What do you mean?” I ignore my squeak.

“Where he at? He’s not here helpin’ Guido out, no?”

“What do you mean he’s not here? I heard he is.”

“He was here, see. Yew know Mac, military boy, right? He gits me medicine, see? Keeps my gals from havin’ them babies. He went missin’, out of nowhere, my box of goodies showed up on my stoop,” His gaze goes to the ceiling, “‘Bout two weeks ago. Gone again, my Mac boy, and I needs ta know when he come ‘round again.”

I’m very confused. “You’re saying you know about Mac, and he helps you get birth control?” A surge of hurt strikes me, remembering his ovulation speech when he had access to birth control.

“And other drugs and supplies, like that IV yew gots fo that scratch. Not to mention the sutures used to sew yew up right. And he help do it. Like a doctor, Mac boy.”

I don’t know what to tell him, so I tell him the truth as I see it. “I only know he was sent here from the Coalition to remain at his post. I don’t know why he’d leave again. I haven’t seen him since the morning after the Monster Bash.” My eyes sting, but I blink rapidly to keep tears from spilling. Why does shit keep piling on top of me?

“I figures this. And I have the knows on them cult fucks. If yew ever need ta know.” He’s talking about my kidnap, and maybe I have a need for revenge. The only thing I feel for those people are the women and children stuck there, but I have to have confidence Dalton is there for a reason.

“Then why didn’t you use that information when it was needed? Say… when they kept me drugged and forced me to marry some kid. Only after I watched him shoot his brother.” I’m getting pissed off, which is better than hurt. Just thinking back to my drugged state of mind brings on a short bout of rage. I shove it to the back of my mind and really hope Mac has a good reason for doing whatever it is he is doing. I feel like killing him right about now.

He only shakes his head. “We found ‘em after Rudy boy got back. Waiting on yew though, Rudy says. That’s why we put the gate up. Don’t need no more of that.”

“How thoughtful.”

“No needs fo the attitude. Jus helpin’ is all.” He gets up and walks to the drapes. “We have another problem. Too many folk here. Look.”

Walking to the window, the obscured thump of the Clap Trap heightens as the bass pumps through my booted feet from the floor. Pulling the drapes aside, I peer down. People are everywhere. I recognize some of them from the base. Survivors we rescued, even though some don’t see it that way. I open the drape wider and catch sight of a familiar figure at the bar. The drape movement catches his attention, and he looks up in mid sip of whatever his glass holds. The drink drops to the bar, and he jumps off the stool to avoid any spillage.

I shut the drape when Guido’s voice cuts through the air. “I gots a date, chickie. We tawk more later, hear?”

Picking up my pack, I stalk out only to realize he didn’t tell me about Mago when the door closes. I pound the door. “That’s right! We’ll talk later!” I yell at him. “Bastard.” I mutter as I stomp down the steps.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

The secrets Mac is keeping are piling up. He stocks Guido on medication. I’m almost sure he gets it from the Coalition. Do I care? No. In fact, I’m glad the girls get something. A surge of hope runs through me that Dalton is doing the same thing.

After cleaning up quickly and changing clothes in the Clap Trap bathroom, I wander around the building and courtyard in a daze. Tracking down the PGA Reece brought back comes to mind, but I squash the idea. I’ll have to cut back before I come to rely on it. There’s no need to turn out like my mother. What I really need is sleep.

Opening the door to Mac’s room, there seems to be a problem. A man and a little boy sit on the floor, playing cards.

The man casts me a confused face. “Is there something I can help you with?”

I glance around the room and notice nothing of Mac’s remains. He’s not here to claim the space, so Guido gave it to someone else. “Uh, no. I think I got the wrong room.”

“You’re probably looking for the young man next door.”

“Maybe,” I say, closing the door again.

After the encounter, I go to the next building and knock before entering the room Rudy and I shared a few months back. There’s no answer, but when I open it, a pang kicks me in the chest at the familiar surroundings. I catch a glimpse of woman’s clothing on the bed and promptly shut the door. Since the community is overcrowded, it’s no wonder he shares a room with Julie.

I laugh at this absurd situation. All I want to do is pass out. Smiling, I know where to go. When I make it out to the parking lot, I find the armored truck locked.

Something snaps in me as I jiggle and jerk the back door handle in agitation. “What the hell? You’ve never locked it before now!” My raspy voice carries through the parking lot.

A deep voice splits through the cold night air. “Because the only person I let in it without my permission has been gone.”

I turn toward Rudy even though I can’t see him. “I hope you’re talking about me because I need sleep in a desperate way and all the rooms are taken,” I explain in a huff.

Small rocks skid underneath his boots as he comes closer. “Your voice—”

“Is fine.” I clear it, knowing it won’t do any good.

A warm hand wraps around mine, pulling me forward into a hug. The harsh smell of moonshine hits my nostrils and underneath, a rich pine. “Come on, it’s cold and I don’t think sleeping in the truck is a good idea. There’s plenty of room where I’m staying.”

“I was going to find Glin—”

“No, you weren’t. Don’t argue. If it makes any difference, my pants are completely wet and
I’m
cold.”

It did make a difference. “I think it’ll be cramped with three people staying in your room.” It’s not that I care where I sleep right now. Julie will have a problem with it.

“Three?” he questions. After a long moment, he shakes with laughter before it finally releases out loud in his rich tone. “If I shared a room with her, I’d go mad, Darlin’.”

My heart warms at his laugh, but the conversation I have to have with him turns it cold. Rudy doesn’t say anything else. I’ve missed our easy silence.

The door he brings me to is right next door to Mac’s old room.
You’re probably looking for the young man next door.
Of course, the guy would be talking about Rudy.

The first thing I notice upon entering is the smell of his pine soap. I think he even uses it to wash his clothes. The smell alone will help me sleep. I get a good look at him when he flicks on a lamp. Before I can gape, I grin and blurt, “Nice beard, ZZ Top.”

He laughs and scratches it with his fingertips. The scars on his face stand out from where they hinder hair growth. “Yeah, it hasn’t been a priority.” The smile slips from his face as he takes me in. Heavy concern clouds his features, but I glance around and ignore it the best I can.

Spotting a loveseat, I drop my pack and lie down on my back, propping my head on the arm. My feet hang over the edge, but I don’t care. “I like it. Covers up your dimples, though.”

He moves to sit at the end of the bed, which happens to be about two feet away from me. My eyelids droop, but I open them wide when he removes my sunglasses.

“Hey, I like rocking the Johnny Cash look.” I glance at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. Sometime between him turning on the light and now, he took the bandana off.

A brief smile touches his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes as he lifts my chin. I close my eyes, knowing he wants to check my neck. Rough fingertips graze my throat.

Rudy’s breathing becomes heavier. “Does it hurt?”

“Not as much as it used to.” I grab his hand and meet his gaze. “Will you play the guitar for me?”

“Anything to make you feel better.” The statement is loaded with unsaid things.

As the room fills with his strumming, my world narrows and before I know it, I’m asleep.

*

I hurry toward the laughter filling the air with the carefree quality only children carry. The sun brightens the blue sky, turning everything vibrant and clear. A merry-go-round spins as a child uses his little legs at a full run before hopping on. A chubby child clutches the bars and a stuffed animal, terrified. The other kids sing, “Fatty, fatty, two-by-four. Can’t fit through the kitchen door.”

I step forward. “Hey! Be nice.” The kids laugh, but stop when the wind blows. Clouds block the sun. I look at the merry-go-round, now spinning slowly with a lone passenger. No children are in sight, but Jeremiah sits holding the kid’s toy, smiling at me. He lifts a revolver from the bear and points it at me.