Fountain of the Dead (32 page)

“Keep your sanctimonious bullshit to yourself, Pierce.” Catherine said. “We have bigger things to worry about than your personal airs.” She took the radio from Micah. “Beverly, thank God, is that you?”

“Even if that is her, how the fuck do you expect her to get here?” Pierce stood up and pointed the flashlight at them. “Run across the lake to us? Take the last motor boat to us, navigate the swamp at night? And then what?”

“I don’t know, Pierce. Maybe I just wanted to know she’s alive.” Catherine stood up and went nose to nose with Pierce. Frank stepped forward, forgetting about the barricade, getting ready to move in and kill Pierce the second he made a move against Catherine. “Maybe I care more about a friend and another human, than about a fucking alligator.” Anger seethed through her, so deep and dark it fought for control. An anger she’d not felt since her failed marriage.

“You’ve killed us all,” Pierce said and backed into the corner again and slid down to the floor. Catherine shook with rage. She took deep breaths and calmed herself. She went to Micah and sat next to him on the floor. She looked up at Frank, who was eager for her to give the word. And she knew just a nod would send Frank to bludgeon or stab or shoot Pierce.

“Micah, keep working the radio. See if you can raise anyone.” Pierce laughed from the corner of the shed. He rolled the flashlight over to them. “Sam, keep an eye on him. I’m pretty sure he’s gone over the edge and isn’t coming back this time.”

“Hello, can anyone hear me?” Micah switched channels. “Please, is there anyone out there?”

“I need to be on the roof,” Sharon said. She held out her hand to Micah. “We’re going to die in here. We’ll either bake in here when the sun comes out, if we make it through the night. Or wait for those, things out there to get in here and kill us.” Pierce sat in the corner and muttered to himself the full flare of crazy was back in his eyes. Micah hung his head and switched to a new station.

“Are you sure, Sharon?” Catherine asked.

“What choice do we have?” The shed shook as something rammed into it.

“I’ll watch point,” Frank said and checked the clip in his gun. Sharon checked her pockets, and shook her head.

“If my hips were smaller, I’d be able to wrestle through that roof plate. I have three clips on me, one in the rifle. I don’t know how many are out there, but I might clear us a path.”

“Or attract more of them to us from the noise of the shots,” Pierce said.

“There’s a step ladder in the corner. You’re going to have to be fast,” Frank said. Sam cleared the barricade away from the door. “We’ll talk through the roof vent.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to hear every word, even without the vent.”

Frank pulled Sharon into a tight hug. Sharon went to Micah and squeezed him so hard he couldn’t breathe for a moment. She wiped a tear from his cheek.

“I’ll be back here soon.”

“Promise.”

“Promised.”

Frank grabbed the handle of the door with his free hand. Sam held the step ladder white knuckled in his hands. Catherine stepped back, taking Micah with her. Frank looked at them all with wide eyes and nodded.

* * * * *

He threw open the door and fired madly. Bullets punched through leathery skin. He kicked one in the snout driving it away and sidestepped another that charged at him. Sam leapt out the door, clearing the animals in the path, Sharon right behind him. He opened and planted the ladder while Frank fired. He dropped an empty clip and slapped in a fresh one. Sharon scrambled up the ladder.

“It’s not high enough!” She screamed.

“I got you,” Sam said and helped to hoist her up. Frank put two bullets into a six footer that ambled up next to the ladder. The gators piled up on each other trying to get near the warm flesh. It looked like feeding time at Gator Land.

Sam planted a hand on Sharon’s backside and pushed her on to the roof. She fought for purchase and got to the crest. Sam hopped off the ladder, using a dead gator for a landing and rushed back into the shed. Frank fired more until the chamber clicked empty. He slammed the door shut and slid down it to the floor after locking it. After catching their breath and wiping as much sweat off as they could, Frank and Sam reconstructed the barricade.

“Any casualties?” Catherine asked.

“Two more clips of ammo,” Frank answered.

“I hope what we stole from Darien holds out.” Catherine said.

* * * * *

Sharon heard the click of the locks after the door was closed. Below her in the shed, the barricade was moved back into place; the legs of the foosball table scraped against the floor. She lay on the roof, getting flat as she could and took the cap off the rifle scope. She felt the cool reassuring metal of the spare clips in her pocket. Sharon eased the safety off, exhaled a long breath and took the first shot. The alligator was rocked by the bullet. Its back feet continued to twitch after it was dead again.

“One down,” she called. After scooting forward a little, she cleared the ones directly in front of the door. The normally dark green skin was mottled with black. The eyes, like the other undead, were grey and loaded with violet veins. Some had bites taken out of them; others had no wounds, save for the gunshots. She looked down at the corpses in front of the door and groaned.

“Going to be a hell of a time getting out.” She saw more of them moving low in the moonlight, attracted by the noise and violence. They moved faster than human zombies. The biology was different and Sharon remembered seeing a nature show before The Storm, where alligators could run up to 35 miles per hour. She wondered for a moment if some were actually living animals, attracted by the blood in the air. Their eyes betrayed them as they got closer to the hut.

“Kill all the lights down in there. Keep a candle lit if you need to.”

Their progress slowed; Sharon stopped firing for a moment, waiting for the next wave. When the swamp sounds returned slowly, she risked a glance over the roof. They were down there, dead and waiting, like a carpet of death traps, waiting to be sprung. Dead eyes stared up; massive snouts with vicious teeth open and waiting. Sharon slid back a little and kicked the vent off, it clattered down the roof to a chorus of contorted hisses and growls.

“They’re not moving,” she said.

“So kill them all!” Pierce screamed.

“I’m working on it,” she grumbled. She inched forward again and wiped the sweat from her eyes. Without the scope she fired into the mass of bodies. But the writhing never ceased. They crawled over each other to get to their food.

* * * * *

Micah worked the radio switching channels. Frank and Sam stood near the door. Every shot made Catherine flinch. She kept picturing Sharon losing her balance and sliding into the pile of alligators outside, while Micah wept and they were forced to listen to her being devoured. Each flinch was a reflex at the threats from her youth and marriage, drunken rages ending in bloodshed but no bullet wounds. Wet slurping came from the corner.

“Is something in here?” Frank lit his flashlight and shone the beam on Pierce. He was in the corner, kneeling, with his arm in his mouth. Long tendrils of bloody spit stretched down from his lips. Spread out in front of him and open was the book from his pack. It showed a map of Florida, with a large “X” in the south. The upside down caption read “The Fountain of Youth.”

“What the fuck are you doing, Pierce?”

Pierce lowered his arm exposing the fresh bite mark. Frank rushed forward and punched Pierce in the head. Pierce crumpled from the blow and Frank dragged him over to Catherine and Sam. Micah reached for the book and flipped it around. Between the pictures on the pages were scores of hand written notes.

“Micah?” Frank shouted. Pierce stirred on the floor and reached for his head. Blood oozed from his temple.

“Fountain of Youth. He thinks he’s found the Fountain of Youth.” Micah showed them the book. “In a cave in the swamps.”

“Hit him with the light,” Frank shouted.

“First clip down,” Sharon yelled from the roof. They heard scratching from the roof as she shifted position to get the next clip. They followed the path of the empty clip as it slid to the ground below. Micah traced a map on the page with his finger then grabbed one of the lights and shone it on Pierce’s arms.

“Look at those,” Frank spat. “They’re self inflicted. All the bites on his arms and hands he made.” He pushed up Pierce’s sleeves and compared the angle of the bite marks. He grabbed Pierce’s face and forced his mouth open and compared the bites to his teeth. “Shit.” Pierce shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs. Sam let go of his shoulders and he fell hard to the floor.

“Psycho was leading us down here on a wet dream,” Sam said. Frank’s face was red with rage, his hands shook. He went to Pierce and ripped off his shirt.

“Ever see a zombie avoid the torso? Ever see a zombie not go for the soft spot?” He yelled and punched Pierce in the gut.

“We should have checked the rest of him for bites or let one chew on him for the test,” Catherine whispered. “I really have killed us all.”

“No, we all believed in it and you,” Frank said. “We saw it work.” He wiped his mouth with his hand and took a step away. He spun with rage and planted his boot in Pierce’s ribs.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Pierce gasped. “At least do it quick.” Frank kicked him again, hard in the ribs. Pierce curled into a ball.

“The water heals Frank. We used it, you and I saw.” Micah looked up at them both. “Your idea. We need to get more. Get some for Beverly and Williams.”

“How about I toss him out into that pack of whatever the fuck they are out there?”

“Why are you down here, really?” Catherine asked.

“Fountain of Youth,” Pierce gasped.

“Oh that’s rich!” Frank went to kick him again and caught himself. “We’re down here chasing a fucking myth.”

“It’s real.” Pierce pleaded. “You saw the water, it works. I found it once, I couldn’t find it again.”

“And these people, in the lab, you killed them when they refused to help you?”

“It was deserted and they were dead when I got here. I was following legends and tales from the Seminoles.”

“What did you expect to find? A giant fountain made of gold and jewels bubbling clear, perfect water?” Catherine asked. “Maybe the remains of the galleon he sailed here on?”

“If you read the history books, there are tales from Spanish explorers that found it.”

“Where are they now? If it existed, they’d be the kings of the world,” Micah said as he slammed the book closed and flung it across the room.

“That’s why I came down here. I’ve been tromping through the swamps and wetlands for fuck knows how long,” Pierce said and spit on the floor, the saliva pink tinged. “And I found my way out of the swamp and roamed the highways looking for help.” He smiled at Micah. “Had a long time to construct my story. And I really am an environmentalist if it matters.” Pierce slid his hands on his ribs, gingerly and grimaced.

“And you risked our lives for your craziness?” Micah said.

“You stowed away, kid. And yes.”

“Catherine, please let me kill him.” Catherine looked down at Pierce and felt pity. “Leave him alone, Frank.” Frank looked at her shocked. Above them Sharon fired into the darkness. “Let’s get out of here, and get back to our village.” Pierce struggled to his feet, holding his side.

“You broke my ribs.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t stab you in the gut and let you bleed out slow.”

“How we doing Sharon?” Catherine yelled.

“Down to one clip, it’s slowing.”

“Sam, get ready to open the door.” Sam glared at Pierce and pushed the barricade out of the way. He grabbed the door handle.

“Any last words?”

Pierce tried to straighten up and bent over in pain.

“Yeah,” he said and punched Catherine, once in the face breaking her nose and again in the ear. He pushed Sam out of the way and took off into the swamp. He hit the carpet of gators and went down hard into the midst of them. He rolled out of the way as one tried to bite him. When his feet hit ground, Pierce ran off into the darkness. Frank helped Catherine into one of the chairs. Micah tore some cloth from his shirt and handed it to Frank.

“Want me to drop him?” Sharon yelled.

“No, he’s mine.” Frank grabbed two extra clips of ammo and charged off after Pierce.

* * * * *

Frank jump-stepped over the alligators like a tire obstacle; he saw Pierce fade into the dark forest, away from the walkways. Everything else was secondary; killing Pierce filled his mind. The gators didn’t matter, zombies didn’t matter, and he wanted blood. Through the trees, he heard Pierce crashing through the undergrowth. He was an easy target. Frank forced himself to run faster, to catch up and overtake him, but Pierce had least ten years, probably more on him. There was a loud splash and a crash. Frank charged forward.

Pierce was waist deep in a pond, sloshing through the water. He turned to see who was following and went face first into the water. Frank eased out into the cool water, the surface dotted with green patches of algae. Saw grass swayed in Frank’s wake through the water. Frank stopped in the water to catch his breath; Pierce dove forward and started to swim. He groaned in pain with each stroke.