Mark Clodi (28 page)

“Take it easy people me an Juan, we are normal people, not zombie-folk. I know, I know some of ‘em are running around shootin’ their mouths off and such, but that ain’t us, right Juan?”

“Si.” answered the Hispanic man.

“Juan here, he is the brains behind this outfit and we are headin’ over to the gun shop on Mariposa, a couple miles of hikin’ from here, to try and find some handguns, we got these over and under models from the big warehouse over off of Julip, but in a close in fight, well Juan wanted something to put them zombies down and not much works better than a blow to the head with a bat. Lets start this slow, okay? My name is Hank and this’n here is Juan.” Said Hank, hitching his thumb back at the man behind him, “What’r you folks called?”

“I am Michael, Mike, this is Whitney, then there is Jane and behind her is Max.” said Michael, never taking his eyes off the men in front of him.

“Well Michael, I can tell you ain’t zombies, don’t know how, I just can. How many others you got in there with ya?” The man behind Hank tugged on his shirt, Hank leaned over a quiet, quick conversation took place, “Ah, yeah, Juan here is right, none of my damn business. He smells coffee though and would love to have a cup if you don’t mind? Here you can hold our o’ver-unders too.” As he said this Hank and Juan held out their rifles to Mike and Whitney.

Michael looked at Whitney, shrugged and declined to take the guns, “No go on in, Jane has coffee made, we only have little cups though, plenty of coffee you just have to refill the cups a lot.”

“That so? Well Juan don’t mind, me either for all that. Thanks Michael.”

Stewart and Max backed into the reception area followed closely by Hank and Juan. Whitney and Michael stayed to watch the front door.

Max saw Lauren standing quietly in a doorway down the hall, all but invisible in the shadows as she watched the group, probably waiting to spring the alarms if she needed to. Max sat back on the arm of a chair, he could not get himself to bend to sit down, despite the pain medicine. Stewart gestured towards the coffee and Juan quickly poured cups for himself and Hank, putting sugar in his and cream and sugar substitute in Hanks.

“Well where did you folks come from? Is one of you a police officer? I saw the car out front.”

Max realized then that Stewart was out of uniform, in new clothing undoubtedly salvaged yesterday when they were out gathering supplies.

“Yeah that’s me. Officer Jane Stewart.” said Stewart extending her hand to Hank, who looked at it a moment, then shook it. Juan put his hand out to shake too, before settling into an office chair to observe the conversation.

“Figured as much, you got the holster an all. So you want to spill your story or should we go first?”

Stewart said that Max should tell their tale and she would fill in the pieces he missed, Max did so telling what had happened over the last two days since he arrived at work and leaving off only the plans to get to his house and get his wife and kids.

Hank and Juan listened intensely, then Hank asked, “Well, well, what about your wife Max, that must be next on your list, right? Arvada is quite a ways away, a long walk unless you got a way to clear the streets? I know where the city keeps their snow plows, all two of ‘em. They would run though and could probably push the cars outta the way.”

Max gave a short laugh, “No Hank, I think we got it covered, but we might need both snowplows if we all want to get out of the city sometime.”

“Get out? Hm, never much considered leaving, this is our home here, me and Juan and no flesh eating zombie is going to make us leave, right Juan?”

“Si.”

"Take it for what it's worth, but me and Juan did a little thinking about this the other evening, ain't that right Juan?"

"Si."

"So, we're sitting there, me and Juan, listening to the sounds of the city, staring up at the stars when it hits me, us. Well Juan really. It is so dang simple. What we have here is a case of good science gone wrong. Isn't that how it always happens?"

"Si."

"I wasn't talking to you. Anyway, at first we thought it was probably those A-rabs and some kind of terrorist plot. But come on, you expect them to concoct some virus that makes people turn into zombies and start eating each other? Not a chance, they're not smart enough. So, who is smart enough? Us?"

"Si."

"Let me explain it ok?"

"Si."

"Anyway, us, it had to be us. Not me and Juan, but the good old U-S of A. So, the next question we asked ourselves was, why? Why would we come up with some sort of magic potion to make someone into a zombie? I mean, what's the point? It's not our style is it? Juan, you be quiet. No, when we want to fight we're all about bombs and sending our good old boys over for a face to face ass kicking. So then how did it happen? That's when Juan came up with the idea about good science gone bad, right?"

"Si. Some sort of mad scientist or something."

"We got to thinking, probably some guy in a white lab coat trying to find the cure for cancer, aids, the common cold and bam! The next thing you know he's got lab rats eating one another. Now, this is where it gets interesting. Juan says to me, 'Hank, I'll bet you a cerveza that these zombies have got special powers. Like super human combat powers.' and I says to him, 'special powers? Like superman? I don't see any of them flying around.' and he says to me, 'no, not flying around but seeing stuff we can't see, like x-ray vision. Stuff to make them faster and stronger. For fighting.' So, Juan's idea is that these zombies can see our heat, or life or something that separates us from them, kind of like that movie Predator where Arnold fights that alien in the jungle, seen it?"

"Si."

"Not you. I know you've seen it because we saw it together. Take a look at how the dumber ones gather around the lights at night or things that radiate heat during the day. Something attracts them to it, eh?"

"Si Heat vision maybe or infrared."

"You want to finish explaining our hypotenuse or can I? Thought so. Okay, long story short, the zombies have a special zombie vision and they can heal themselves by eating us and the more they eat the stronger they get and the smarter they get and the smarter ones can control the not so smart ones by using some kind of zombie mind control and...and did I leave anything out?"

"Si."

"Oh, right, how could I forget the best part. If you look at what the TV, on the CNN, they said when everything started, Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, Denver all had zombies, all major cities in the US. And get this people in Frank-German-furt, Bejong China, Sidney, Buenos Aires, and who the fuck else knows where else had em too. Hell even places in Africa were reporting cases of the creepy-crawlies. Why? If you were lab guy turned zombie and wanted to share your zombie disease with the world would you start in Laramie, Wyoming? Heck no, you'd hit the major cities where all the folks are. One turns into two, two turns into four and so on. Next thing you know you've got yourself a zombie army, kind of like that pyramid scheme that guy tried to convince us to join, remember that Juan?"

"Si."

"So, there you have it, some guy in a white lab coat forgot to wash out a beaker or something and now we have zombies with super powers trying to take a bite our of everyone and their mother. This coffee, it is good an’ all, but you got any cold beer?"

Juan leaned over and spoke rapidly in Spanish into Hank’s ear. “Ah no Juan is right, no drinkin’ until the day is done, we got a whole walk in cooler filled with beer anyway. So what is your plan then?”

Chapter 42

The night passed painfully slow. Amelia had pushed almost all of the furniture in front of the hotel room door, other than the beds. She drew the curtains closed across the balcony door and allowed Cory to only use a flash light or play his gameboy in the corner of the room or in the bathroom, where no light would be reflected to the windows. She hoped she was being cautious enough. Cory eventually dropped off to sleep beside her on ‘his’ bed, the kid was a heater, and the eighty degree room was almost unbearable even without a heat generating child who constantly seemed to be trying to attach himself to her back.

During the night she was awakened several times to Diane’s moans of pain. Diane seemed to drift in and out of consciousness and the water and food Amelia pushed on her did not seem to help. Her arms were puffy, with streaks of pink and red running up from where the bites were. Every time Amelia checked, Diane's arms looked worse.

At five am Diane seemed to regain herself and called out, “Amelia!”

Waking from her dozing Amelia rushed to Diane side, stumbling over Cory’s open suitcase and shoes.

“I am here Diane!”

“Amelia, I am dying.”

“No, no, Diane, you will be fine.”

“Amelia, don’t. I am too old and we both know what is going on.”

Amelia started to sob, quietly.

“Hey, cut it out young lady, I only get to do this once and I don’t want you to mess it up by being hysterical the last few hours of my life.”

Amelia pulled herself together, blew her nose into a tissue and tried to put on a better face for Diane. Despite her hounding Cory earlier to keep the lights off in the main room, she turned on her flashlight, keeping most of the glow covered with her fingers before turning to have a look at Diane. What she saw was ghastly, Diane was a pale, sweaty white, the painful red streaks up her arms contrasted sharply against her white skin and disappeared up past where her blouse covered her shoulders. Looking at Amelia Diane sighed heavily, “I haven’t got long now do I? I keep thinking, what if I had done something differently, defended myself instead of vomiting comes to mind, I should have done anything but that. It is foolish you know, what is done is done and, unfortunately, I cannot undo it. So what do you do? I am going to die and I bet when I go I will turn into one of them, after all I am dying because one of ‘em bit me. So I think you and the boy need to go, get into another room at least, okay?”

“Diane, I…can’t just…leave you here alone! I mean that would not be, that would be, not right!”

“Shush up, don’t say that, things have changed and leaving the room of a woman who is going to be a zombie very soon is the ‘right’ thing to do. Unless you want to either kill me now or risk me getting up and getting you and the boy. What other choices are there dearie?”

“I, I should have brought you to a hospital or a doctor!”

Diane made a pooh-poohing sound and said, “No, there is not anyone. We drove through most of the city the only people still around are keeping their heads down. What are the odds of finding a doctor? None, we both know it, a hospital? Yeah, more like an easy target for the hordes to snag some easy food from. Don’t feel guilty about anything we did good, you and I, and you have nothing to be ashamed of or sorry for. But now, you have to go. After looking at your face I don’t think I even have those few hours left that I thought I had.“

Amelia made as if to protest again, but Diane cut her off, “Amelia, you need to go. Don’t argue, don’t fight it, don’t even rationalize it, just go. Now. Please?”

Nodding 'yes' Amelia started to gather up the few things she had, making sure to get the keys to the Cadillac. After moving the furniture away from the door as quietly as she could she took a backpack that was obviously Cory’s and stuffed it full things she thought he would need. Amelia was amazed at how small some of his stuff was, his whitey-tighties were laughably tiny and the t-shirts and shorts mere weightless-spaceless scraps of clothing. This was not entirely true, of course, soon his entire pack was full with about all the clothing she could find for him. As for Cory he was asleep, he had thrown the covers off and was lying in an over-sized shirt and underwear, legs askew and arms wide open, one hand still clutching his game boy, his injured arm tightly gripping a blanket in a closed fist.

Amelia tentatively pulled the gameboy from one hand and the blanket from his other, stashing the gameboy into the top of his pack. She slung his backpack over her shoulder and didn’t know whether to take pride or be humiliated by the fact that a ten year old boy’s backpack fit over her shoulder without adjusting the straps. She half bent over the bed and lifted Cory up into a carrying position, he was far lighter than she had imagined and seemed to ‘fit’ and carry just fine. Amelia flashed the light back to Diane, who waved her off, making pushing gestures towards the door.

Looking back only once more Amelia eased the door open and stepped once again into the hallway. Cautiously she checked the hallway both directions, thankfully it was empty. Amelia had her hands full of small boy and flashlights and realized the best she could have managed would have been a lumbering shuffle if anything had been waiting for her. She made her way to the stairwell she and Diane had come up and after a few minutes she was back at the car. Amelia set her flashlight down on the hood and used her now free hand to pull out the car keys, pressing the button on the remote she unlocked the doors and put Cory into the passenger seat. After stowing the rest of the stuff in the back seat she moved around to the driver’s side, climbed in and started the car. The parking lot lights were still on and she decided to try and not call attention to herself by driving as far as she could without the lights on. As soon as she stopped she realized the brake lights still lit when she stopped, so she decided to drive, very, very slowly and use the brakes as little as possible.