Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory (20 page)

With a disgruntled muttering, Abby dons his
headgear before returning to the frontlines. The four are left in
awkward silence, broken only by the sound of those fighting the
dead out on the lawn.

“We’ll be taking off,” Brass says. “Like I
was about to say, we followed this migration well out of our
comfort zone. The dead are all riled up out there. Probably more on
the way, drawn by our lights and gunfire, not to mention the music.
Did you guys like our selection?”

The sudden question is jarring. No one knows
exactly how to answer it. Vida actually likes the obscure band they
played. She thought she was the only person in North America who
owned the CD.

“It was Abby’s turn to choose our soundtrack.
I don’t know … He always picks the weird stuff, or metal, or hair
bands. I like to play something more upbeat. Some Kelly Peel, or
that one about the girl’s milkshake bringing all the boys to the
yard.”

The occupants of the house give him a
confused look.

“I’d hate to leave you guys with such a
dangerous mess, so you’re all welcome to join us until things die
down, no pun intended. And, if you like our settlement you can…
settle there.”

Vida’s witnessed enough inhumanity to be
skeptical, and she mutters, “Then the raping begins.”

“No, absolutely not!” Brass says. “We don’t
stand for such business. You know, I actually read once that rape
fantasies are quite common. What two consenting adults want to do
is their own affair. So, the only raping going on is consensual. If
that’s what you’re into, I’m sure there’s some nice fellow that’ll
be glad to...”

“No, thank you,” Vida says.

“Oh well. To each their own, I guess.”
Another awkward silence passes before Brass continues, “So, who
wants to come with us to Rubicon, Georgia?”

“That’s over two hundred miles away,” Gabe
says.

“Yeah, sounds about right. I did say that we
travelled out of our comfort zone. Besides, the distance doesn’t
really matter when you consider how fast we can drive, since we’ve
personally cleared the route.”

Mike, Vida, and Gabe hardly need to look to
one another before they come to a consensus. Gabe tells the man,
“Sorry, Mister Brass, I think we’re…”

“I want to go,” Jen says from the top of the
stairs. She escorts her five year old son down. Though wrapped in a
warm blanket, Jake looks scared. “If the dead had gotten in…”

“Are you sure?” Big Mike asks, taking her
into his arms.

“Absolutely.”

Mike looks Gabe in the eyes, as if seeking
understanding.

“It’s fine, Mike,” Gabe says, but what Jen
had said shakes his confidence in himself.

“All righty.” Brass nods.

“Our cows!” Jen says. “What if the zombies
get into the barn. We have twelve heads of cattle in there.”

“Ma’am, don’t worry about your… Wait, just
their heads? Why are you saving their heads?”

“She means twelve cows,” Mike explains.

“Oh! That makes much more sense,” Brass
says.

Abby enters the doorway again, but Brass
holds a finger up. “Like I was saying, have no fear. The dead are
only interested in eating humans. So that’s good news, right?”
Brass turns to his right-hand man. “Abby, send a team to the barn.
These people have twelve, fully-intact, actual cows in there. Go
check on them please, and then bring the bus around.”

Brass looks at Vida and Gabe. “So are we all
in?”

“I’m not about to--” Gabe says.

“Oh, don’t be that guy.”

“That guy?”

“The ‘I’m-not-leaving-my-home’ guy. There’s
one in every group.”

“I went through hell to get here, and I’m
including my life before the zombies,” Gabe says.

“Say no more.” Brass shifts his focus to
Vida. “How about you, sweetheart?”

“She’s going too,” Gabe answers for her.

“I’m not leaving without you,” she says.

Though Brass is an odd man, Gabriel trusts
him. When he was a salesman, he learned to read people--to know
whose checks were good and whose weren’t, to know who he needed to
get cash up front from and whose IOUs were as good as gold. Brass
may make light of dark times, but Gabe can tell he’s more than
capable of protecting Vida. He knows that if the zombies had come
crashing in through the doors and windows, he wouldn’t have been
able to do the same. It pains him to do so, but he must make this
choice for her. “Yes you are.”

“Why?” she utters.

“It’s safer,” Gabe says. “Maybe, once you’re
settled in Ruby, you can come check on me.”

“If it’s safer, come too,” she begs him.

“This is my home.”

“Cows and chickens are all right, Brass,”
Abby says from the door. “The Gunship’s ready. Can we go?”

“Make room for four,” Brass tells him.
“Folks, Simon says grab your things. It’s a long ride to Rubicon,
but well worth it.”

The four accompanying them north head up the
stairs for their belongings, while the one holdout stands looking
at the floor.

“Don’t tell me he’s that guy,” Abby says.

“Afraid so,” Brass says. “I’ll need my
kit.”

“No, this isn’t like the others. This place
is way too far from--”

“My kit.”

“Take all the animals,” Gabe whispers.
“There’s a trailer at the barn already. I have plenty of food for a
while.”

“Sounds good, roomie.”

“Roomie?”

“You’ll have to stop that now that we’re
living together,” Brass tells him.

“Living… What’s going on?” Abby pushes a
large hockey bag into the house and it dawns on Gabe. “You’re
staying here with me?”

“Just for tonight,” Brass says. “I told you I
didn’t want to leave you with a dangerous mess. The dead will be
flocking here all night. Come morning they will be gone, and so
will I. Abby, this gentleman says to load the animals as well… I’m
sorry. I didn’t catch your name, sir.”

“Gabriel. You really needn’t bother…”

“It’ll be great! Like a slumber party. We’ll
make prank phone calls, braid each other’s hair, talk about boys.”
Brass lugs the bag that’s larger than he is up the stairs. Those
leaving the house must wait at the top for him to finish.

“Folks, the bus is right out front,” Abby
tells them.

Small bags of personal effects in hand, they
head out the door, and Gabe escorts Vida onto the porch for his
goodbye. The sight of the bus renders him momentarily speechless.
It’s the tallest vehicle in the procession--a double decker painted
olive drab from front to back like an old bomber, complete with a
pinup girl with blood red lips and perfect black hair done up in
Victory Rolls on its side panel. She sits upon a pile of bodies,
holding a large machine gun with ease. This same heavy firepower
lines the open top deck on pivots and peeks out through windows
along the bottom level.

“Wow,” Gabe utters, pulling his gaze away
from the impressive vehicle to look at Vida. “You take care of
yourself.”

“Only if you promise the same.” She hugs him
tightly.

Abby helps Jen and her son onto the bus,
while Mike pauses to shake Gabe’s hand. He says nothing, but looks
rueful as he nods goodbye.

“Abby, this is Vida.” Brass joins everyone
outside. “Put her down for non-raping.”

“Ok?” Abby says as the last of them board the
bus. Once everyone is inside the vehicle, he moves to the top deck
and calls out to Brass, “How long do you need?”

“Give me five minutes!” Brass says while
stepping into the house. “See ya tomorrow!”

She
forgot
her
guitar
. Gabe solemnly considers the instrument he gave her,
and is about to ask if he can run it out to her, but Brass’s next
words make him forget.

“Sir, you’ll want to get upstairs while you
still can.”

“’While I still can?’”

“We talked about that.” Brass points at him,
as if warning Gabe not to make another faux pas. In his hands is a
small chainsaw.

The second Gabe starts climbing the stairs,
Brass revs the saw to life and commences carving up the risers. He
only has five minutes to get the job done.

Gabe hollers, trying to compete with the
power tool to no avail. Either Brass can’t hear him or doesn’t care
that he is protesting the destruction of his house. The saw slices
down the length of the staircase on both sides and along the width
of the second step.

Gabe watches Brass climb the stairs he just
butchered, and the section he cut gives slightly under his modest
weight. Behind Brass, through the open front door, the lights of
the departing convoy recede. Within the shifting beams, pockets of
darkness move, indicating the dead that still roam.

“I didn’t say you could wreck my house!” Gabe
chastises Brass while the saw idles.

“I didn’t wreck all of it.” The droning tool
whines once more as the man slices along the last stair holding the
panel, curiously still standing upon the section of wood he’s
attempting to cut loose. Brass hops on the wiggling structure,
testing its strength. “There!”

They are left in the dark once the last of
the vehicles roll away into the night. Brass lights an oil lantern
and holds it aloft from where he stands at the top of the
stairs.

The dead enter the abyss below, shuffling
just outside of the amber glow of the lantern. The clumsy footsteps
increase in speed once the zombies see the offering above them.
Brass and his people have made note of the change in the dead. They
are faster now and more fervent in their pursuit of food.

Five race to the stairs, pushing into one
another to clamor up first. They climb the risers in a cluster,
reaching for Brass. The scored wood releases its hold and drops out
from beneath them like a trapdoor. They fall with a crash, not
going far since basements are rare in Florida, even in the central
part, due to its low elevation. But all Brass needed to do to keep
them safe was remove access to the second floor.

“Alone at last,” he says.

###

Gabe sits with Brass in the upstairs hall,
listening to the dead enter and exit the home. The fallen zombies
moan from inside their trap within a closet built to utilize the
space beneath the staircase.

Already bored before the first hour passes,
Brass makes conversation to kill time. “How do you know how far it
is to Rubicon?”

“I was a salesman a long time ago,” Gabe
says. “The job took me all over. I was in Ruby once or twice.”

His use of the local nickname proves he’s
been there, not that Brass thought he would have reason to lie.
“What were you selling?”

“Life insurance,” Gabe tells him.

“I guess it’s a good thing you got out of it
when you did,” Brass says between chuckles. “I’d hate to be a
shareholder of that company now.”

Gabe grows irritated. “Is everything a joke
to you?”

“Pardon?” The laughter stops.

“The shenanigans. What you said about the
cows, what you said to Vida about… She’s been through a lot.”

“Well, who the fuck hasn’t, Gabe?” Brass
snaps. “Everyone in Ruby has lost someone. Every last one of us has
been through a lot.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Well, you have.” Brass sits with his arms
draped over his knees and his head hung low. He sniffles. “I may be
wearing body armor, but words still cut me. They still hurt… I have
feelings under all this Kevlar and leather.” Brass gives Gabe a
look of over-the-top indignation, going into joker mode once again.
“We go out, day after day, to fight the good fight and do the right
thing. So I goof around, tell a few jokes. I feel I have the right
to make light of a bad situation” His words grow stronger the
further he takes his performance. “I have every right to cruise
through the apocalypse, screaming ‘I don’t give a fuck’ with my
windows down and my system up! I feel I am entitled. We all
are!”

“I think I’ll turn in for the night,” Gabe
says, getting up. “I’ve had enough drama for one evening.”

Brass ignores the statement as he inspects
Gabe’s emergency rations. “Ew! Lima beans. Who packs this for when
the shit hits the fan? I’d rather die.”

“Goodnight,” Gabe says from his bedroom
door.

Brass gives an obligatory wave, but after the
door shuts, he adds, “You sleep tight in there, little dreamer!
I’ll be here all night, keeping you safe from the evil dead!”

Abby keeps the music low for the benefit of
his passengers, and selects something peaceful. Droning engines
lull the survivors to sleep as the heavily armed vehicles speed
towards Rubicon, Georgia. Despite the uncomfortable positions they
doze in, it’s the most restful slumber they have had in months,
secure in the knowledge that they are safe.

The bus slows and jolts as it turns,
awakening Vida, who looks out a window. It feels later than she
suspects it is. Ahead is a high wall of rubble, and two spotlights
shine down from the opening the double decker bus enters.

While the others sleep, Vida witnesses a
marvel of survivor ingenuity. On either side they are flanked by
the remnants of buildings and huge slabs of concrete. The tight
passage curves around what she suspects to be their settlement, her
new home, and then the driver turns and they curve around a similar
bend going the opposite direction.

A
labyrinth
, she thinks, as
they turn down a third bending path. She understands the reason
behind it when she spots archers and snipers along the top. Paired
with the intricate twists, there’s no way the dead could get to
them. “This is home.”

“No,” Abby says softly. “This is camp. Home
is a place where you don’t have to carry a gun to take a shit.
Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous. We just don’t want our people to
become too relaxed and drop their guard. One day we’ll have a home,
whether it’s here or someplace else…”