Redemption of the Dead (10 page)

She moved
through the house and went back in the kitchen, noticed the note on
the table.

“Oh no, he didn’t.” She went over to
it and pulled it out from under the cleaver.

Tracy,

Sorry for running out, but have to look into something. To
be honest, I was too scared to tell you. I know you’ll be super mad
at me for this, but it has to be done. I’ll explain if I see you
again. Stay here. I left a couple weapons. I also found the SUV
those keys belonged to, so the vehicle’s in the driveway, half a
tank of gas.

She picked up the keys, then went back
to the note.

About our fight, I’m still
sorry even though I know I’m causing another one by doing the same
thing that started the first.

You’ll be safe in this house. Don’t try looking for me.
Just stay here, keep making sure the doors and windows are secure,
stay out of sight. For food . . . I’ll leave that to you. If you
can tough it a day or two without it, I’ll bring something with me
when I come back.

Hope you’re not too mad,
and if it’s any consolation, I will miss you.

Joe

“Oh no, I’m not mad,” she said, “I’m
furious
!”
How dare he do exactly what he said he wouldn’t? What could
possibly be so important he not only decided not to include her in
this little walkabout of his, but didn’t even tell her what it was
about?

“I swear,
once I get my hands you, I’ll tear you to pieces.” She crumpled up
the note. “Hope the undead get you first.”

Her heart ached. She didn’t mean
it.

W
hy did you do it? I
don’t want you to get hurt.
“I
never want you to get hurt.”

Tracy sat at
the kitchen table for over twenty minutes, lost in disbelief at his
abandonment. Someone of his skill and experience should know how
stupid a move it was.

There was no way she was going to stay
put for a day or two while he sorted out whatever it was he needed
to deal with.

“But I don’t want to go out there,
either,” she said. She wasn’t scared, but after having Joe by her
side for a while now, going it alone didn’t feel natural
anymore.

She supposed, though, that that’s the
way it had to be: always alone. No one to trust. No one to
help.

Only herself.

* * * *

Joe kept to
the side of the road, dodging in and around cars both parked and
crashed. Some of the undead were completely oblivious to his
presence. A couple of others saw him, but their stride was so slow
he easily outran them. Only thus far one had attacked him, a blonde
with half her hair torn out, ripped lips and an absent nose. Joe
had taken the paring knife and jabbed it in her eye, hitting the
brain, making short work of her.

His stomach
sat in unease as he traveled toward April’s apartment, upset at how
easily and callously he was able to take down the undead, often
forgetting they were once humans with lives, dreams, families,
hopes.

It took
nearly four hours to get there, to April’s street back in the city.
The dust from the other day still hung in the air and Joe was
finally able to see from what: a building that had been torn down
by one of the giant undead. Sadly, the giant creatures were still
out there, their heavy footfalls shaking the ground every time they
took a step. Once in a while they’d let out a foul call, harsh and
primal, like a yelping injured bear.

Legs sore
and thirsty as all get out, Joe finally turned onto Broadway.
April’s place wasn’t far from here and, thanks to the throng of
jammed cars long-since abandoned and the rubble, Broadway was the
perfect avenue to worm his way through, concealed from any undead
soul looking for him.

Each car he
passed told a different story, their crunched shells and chipped
paint statements of violent accidents by panicked drivers. Blood
spatter decorated many of the windshields, the majority of them
cracked or even missing huge chunks of glass. Flat tires, open gas
tanks from syphoning thieves, absent doors and broken mirrors all
told of the day chaos ruled the street. Most of the vehicles were
stained gray from the Rain. Others weren’t as bad, probably having
been in a garage then used right after the fact once it was noted
people weren’t people anymore and many had become the walking
dead.

A child’s
backpack sat beside a red-blotched-gray Toyota, the Barbie backpack
propped up against the rear passenger door of the four-door vehicle
as a lonely memorial to a little girl lost. Halfway down the
street, on the hood of one of the cars was a diaper bag with a
bloody infant car seat on one side, a red-stained change mat on the
other.

The torn
limbs and rotting flesh littering the ground gave Joe comfort in
that if those chunks of decomposing meat-on-bone were lying there
untouched, then most likely the undead had moved on from this area.
Either that, or this open feast of leftover body parts had yet to
be discovered.

You’d think they would have found it by now, though,
he thought.

He kept on,
staying out of sight. A dozen or so undead stumbled up and down the
dead lawn outside the Legislative Building, most with their eyes to
the ground as if scouring for lost change.

In the distance, a giant zombie
bellowed. Joe hoped they couldn’t see him moving in and around the
crashed vehicles from their vantage point.

As he
crossed the street by the Art Gallery, he stopped by a lamppost
with a flyer taped to it. Most of the paper was covered in gray
streaks from the rain, but he was still able to make out the image
of Spider-Man fighting the Lizard, the flyer from over a year back
stating an exhibit at the Art Gallery showcasing comic art from the
likes of John Romita Jr., Jim Lee and a few others. It immediately
took him back to his comic book days and his heart yearned for that
simpler time. It was almost fitting he saw this nostalgic flyer on
his way to April’s. He had been at what he thought was the height
of his career when he met her. Made sense he’d be at the lowest
point of his life as he made his way to her place on a quest to say
goodbye, if the worst had happened.

A U-Haul
trailer was on its side over to the left, the truck pulling it
still upright, the hitch twisted as the trailer hung on despite
falling over. From around the back of the trailer, a handful of
zombies emerged.

* * * *

The dead
silence of the house weighed upon Tracy as she sat on the couch in
the living room, the one where Joe slept. She’d done as she was
told, but was hating every minute of it.

“This
sucks,” she said, and groaned. “I’m so bored.”

She knew Joe was right about staying
here, but she also knew that just sitting around wasn’t going to
cut it. There was no radio, no TV, no Internet, not even any toys
to occupy her mind.

Don’t try looking for me,
the note had said, but, she decided, that’s exactly what
she was going to do.

Just need a plan,
she
thought.
He could be going
anywhere and it’s been hours since he left. Based on average foot
speed, he could be anywhere within a fifteen-to-twenty kilometer
radius.

It was going to be harder than she
thought. She had to narrow it down. What would Joe need to take
care of that would be so pressing he’d leave her here and head off
on his own?

“Is he just going out there to blow off some steam, kill
some zombies? But he also said he’d be back in a day or two. That’d
be a crazy amount of steam if it takes him that long to chill out.
His family is dead and so is his ex-girlfriend, or that girl that
really did a number on him. Not sure about his other friends,
though it didn’t sound like he really had many.” Talking it out
helped paint a clearer picture of what needed to be done. “He also
said that his world was different than mine, that this one isn’t
the one he remembered. Maybe he’s off to confirm that’s the case?”
The muscles in her face relaxed. “Maybe he’s off to see if he can
find himself, an actual
himself,
a Joe that
lives in this world?”
Doubt
it. Never seen anyone look like him at the Hub. Never encountered a
look-alike on the streets.
“Unless the Joe of this world lives somewhere else. He
didn’t say there was a Hub in his world either, so who knows what
the differences could be?”

Her heart
sank at the prospect it was a lost cause. She could guess all she
wanted and pursue a dozen avenues, but specifically nailing down
his whereabouts would be impossible.

“Crap,” she
said, and struck the cushion beside her. “You’re an idiot, Joe, you
know that?”

She lied back on the couch, put her
hands behind her head, one knee up, the other leg folded across it,
and considered just staying put.

“Who am I
kidding?” she said. “I know exactly what I’m going to
do.”

* * * *

The undead
moved swiftly, all six of them having all their body parts from
what Joe could see. They were all male, all seeming to be a similar
age, too. Quickly, Joe jumped up onto the hood of a van, then got
on its roof. The undead crowded in around it, arms up, palms
slapping the van’s sides, trying to reach him. One of the dead
began to crawl up the hood.

Okay, dumb idea,
he
thought. He must be more tired than he realized because he actually
thought he’d be safe up here off street level.

Two of the
other zombies followed their companion’s example and started to
climb the van, too. The moment the first reached onto the roof and
started to hoist itself up, Joe kicked it in the head, sending it
toppling over the side and onto the pavement. The next was
immediately behind it, face in a twist, lips snarling, mouth wide
with rotten teeth. In one fluid motion, Joe took the steak knife
from his belt, shoved it deep into the zombie’s mouth at an angle,
delivering the blade upward through the roof of the mouth and into
the creature’s brain. He yanked the blade free. The zombie fell
over. Joe jumped down onto the hood, did the same to the third just
as the first started climbing back up onto the hood again. Joe
kicked it down once more as the others started to horde in. Back on
the van’s roof, Joe waited for the three to get their balance, then
let the first come forward. The two behind tried to climb onto the
roof at the same time, crowded each other, and one fell
off.

On the roof,
an undead man in a ratty purple T-shirt reached out. Joe took the
knife to its neck and sliced across, severing the flesh and trachea
in one powerful sweep. He twisted the blade over in his hand and
came back across the neck, this time taking the flesh all the way
to the back against the vertebrae. With a hard kick to the thing’s
head, he knocked its skull from its body.

Three down. Three to go.

The next
undead was already upon him, came in low, and grabbed Joe’s legs
out from under him. Joe hit the roof, a jolt of pain striking his
shoulder blades from the impact. He also felt a pronounced pain in
his lower back, but it faded. He hoped he hadn’t put anything out.
He kicked at the zombie, who started climbing up his body, teeth
snapping, eyes wide with a feral need for human flesh. The moment
the zombie’s head was close enough, Joe drove the steak knife into
the thing’s temple, wedged it in, and the creature stopped moving.
Unable to get his knife out and not wanting to waste any time, he
kicked the dead man off him and rolled off the roof, landing on his
feet beside the van.

Both the
remaining two creatures had been on the van and they quickly
stepped off and came toward him. Joe grabbed the first by the arm,
spun him around and threw him into his bloodthirsty comrade. He
took both paring knives from his belt, one in each hand, and got
ready for them to come forward again. The first did and he plunged
the blade deep into the creature’s gut, then ripped the knife
across its belly, its rotten flesh easily giving way to the blade.
Its guts spilled out, slopping around the zombie’s feet. It slipped
on them and fell, giving Joe enough time to move away and drive
both paring knives into the eyes of the other. He swiftly withdrew
the blades, then slammed them back in the eye sockets for good
measure. The creature dropped.

The last
undead tried to get up, its feet still slipping on its own
intestines like someone trying to stand on freshly-cleaned ice. Joe
came in from behind it, rammed one paring knife into the base of
its skull, skewing the blade upward to the brain, and came in with
the other from the side via the zombie’s ear, just in case. The
creature’s legs slipped out from under it; it fell and didn’t
move.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead,
Joe looked at the bodies and found the one that still had the steak
knife in it. He went over to it, reached down, and put a boot on
the side of the gutmuncher’s head while pulling the blade out at
the same time. It came free after a violent jerk.

All three blades were coated in the
dead’s slimy black blood and Joe didn’t want to replace them in his
belt until he had a chance to clean them off. He assumed he’d find
something sooner or later so, blades in hand, he continued his trek
down the street in search of April’s apartment.