Rise and Walk (20 page)

“No, nothing at all,” Jack said. She opened her eyes and saw Jack standing. He offered her his hand and she took it. Rising to her feet with his help she understood that she had fallen asleep. It was time for Tony to take over the watch. She walked with drowsy steps towards the shack. Looking up she saw the clouds racing away now from the campground and all their troubles. The winds had changed. Inside, she soon fell back into to a dreamless sleep.

A few miles away in the quiet camp of Professor Galloway, several once living students milled about without direction. They had all partaken of poor Ranger Watkins and subsequently, without prey, staggered their stiff forms around the camp without reason. They didn’t tire so they didn’t require sleep. The darkness didn’t frighten them for they had no fear. Their only purpose, only motivation, would be more living matter to consume. At around three A.M. in the pitch black, it arrived. Born on the changing wind came something to strive for; a faint scent of something desirable, something warm and wet, to devour. One by one they moved slowly towards the smell. Falling and stumbling in the dark, they came slowly but undaunted.

THIRTY-THREE

Mason stood next to the workbench holding up the barrel of his paint gun. Nikki and Veronica watched his demonstration as soft morning light illuminated the shack. He placed a nail dart in the barrel, pushed the end down with his thumb and blew a large blast of air from his mouth through the pipe. A four inch nail stuck solidly into a pine two by four in the wall. Nikki raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“See, now the principal is the same for the paint guns, but with a lot more pressure,” he said retrieving the dart, careful not to crush the paper and tape cone. He placed the dart in the tube again and screwed the barrel back on to the paint gun.

“You have to load the darts one at a time and you’ll have to be close to get through bone. This is a last resort, but it’s an option I want you to know about,” he said.

Mason looked around the shack. The motorcycles were checked out and parked outside. Tony had taken Lance to pee so he couldn’t beg the girls later to take him out and attempt an escape. Mason had affixed a two by four across the door that should hold well. He didn’t expect a siege but he was worried about leaving the girls alone. Even though he had known them for only a day, he cared about them. He looked at Veronica and toyed with the idea of going alone, leaving Tony to watch out for the women. This was a two man job, if something happened to one of them on the way; the other had to complete the mission.

“Here they come,” Nikki said looking outside. Tony emerged through the door with Lance in his charge. Setting him back in the corner, Tony checked his restraints. Standing, he looked to Mason. It was time to go. Mason approached Lance while Tony walked outside to his bike followed by Nikki.

“Check it out man,” Mason said with all seriousness, “We’re gonna go get my truck and then we are all gonna get out of here, even you. If you give these girls any shit, I’ll drive you back to the campground, cover your ass in barbeque sauce and dump you in front of those things.”

Lance cowered at the thought and nodded his reluctant acknowledgement.

Outside, Nikki assisted Tony as he adjusted his equipment. He was clad in his motorcycle boots and plastic armor. Nikki held his combat harness so that he could slide into it like a coat. He strapped down his gear firmly and felt the fit. The twelve-gauge shotgun was taped to his handlebars. Removing his combat knife he sliced off the trigger finger of his right glove.

“What did you do that for?” Nikki asked looking at his glove.

“The fabric gets in the way of the trigger” he said wiggling his naked finger in a trigger pulling motion.

Mason pulled on his gear in a similar fashion. He had his scabbard duct tapped to his handlebars and one of the milk crates secured with rope and tape to his back fender. Veronica stood next to him holding the .410 as he mounted his bike.

“Sure you don’t want to take this?” Veronica asked indicating the shotgun. Mason shook his head.

“No, if we don’t make it back it’s up to you to get her out of here. Leave asshole dude here if it comes to that. If he gets out of hand,” Mason put a finger in the shape of a gun to his head, “Cerebellum.”

“Count on it,” she said lifting the weapon.

Inside the shack, Lance knew he didn’t have much time. He had managed to lift his arms high enough to grasp one of the homemade darts off the workbench. Holding it in both hands he tried to poke the sharp end into the tape around his wrists but lacked the flexibility to do so. In a panic, he dropped the dart on the floor and hid it with his leg. He brought his wrists to his mouth and tried to chew the tape. All he succeeded to do was wet the tape and crush its fibers. Frustrated and afraid, he gnawed harder, but to no avail. Pain flashed from his teeth up through the nerves of his face. The tape snagged on the rough surface of his broken tooth. The sensation was electric agony. He looked at the tape and saw that it had frayed. He endured tremendous pain as he slowly worked his bonds over the jagged surface of his broken tooth.

“Be careful,” Nikki said to Tony, “seriously.”

“Don’t worry; we’ll be back in no time.” He pulled out his pistol and spare magazine, “Here, keep this for me.”

She took the weapon, checked the safety like he had shown her and put it in her pocket. Mason, helmet on and ready to go, kicked over his starter. Nikki handed Tony his helmet. Her concern was apparent. She was afraid for the boys; afraid she wouldn’t see them again. Veronica put her arm around Nikki as she backed away from the bikes. Tony kicked his starter three times and his old yellow bike sputtered to life.
Come on girl
, he thought,
you got a lot left in you
. Nikki looked at the rear fender of Tony’s Yamaha and noticed a worn sticker that said
Suck Ass
. She smiled despite her worry.

The two bikes, unencumbered by extra passengers, blasted onto the road. Mason, in the lead, popped his front wheel in the air and disappeared over the rise.

Lance had almost snagged his way through the tape when he heard the women approach. Pain induced perspiration covered his face. He quickly tried to brush off the sweat. He put his hands down, hoping that no one would notice the frayed tape on his wrists. As they entered, he pretended to be sleeping.

“How long do we wait?” Nikki asked removing the pistol from her pocket and holding it for comfort.

“Jack said two and a half hours,” she answered checking the watch that he had given her. The watch read seven A.M. Veronica placed the two by four across the door.

The sunrise had allowed the ghouls to see once again. The tempting scent had faded with the dawn but they were close. They moved faster now and no longer stumbled. The noise that roared in the distance gave them a new heading. It was a loud sound that echoed in their dead ears calling for investigation. Once young bodies, healthy and strong now moved their torn and mangled carcasses, mouth first towards the sound of motorcycles.

THIRTY-FOUR

The ruts and rivulets of the hard dirt road were easier to navigate at higher speeds. Mason knew that Tony must be struggling to keep pace but their speed was actually making the ride safer. There was urgent work to be done and he knew Tony wouldn’t want to disappoint him. Flashing a look backwards, he was proud to see his friend doing his best to keep up. Rounding the second turn in the road, Mason slowed and trained his eyes off to the side. Lance had given them an approximate location for his broken down truck. Providing that he was telling the truth, this should be the place. Mason dropped his bike into first gear. Putting along in jerky spurts, he scanned the hillside beneath him. He saw it, about one hundred yards away down the hill. Looking back he observed that Tony saw it too. Mason cranked his throttle and bucked his cycle over the rise. He switched to second gear while keeping a careful eye out for surprise geography that might fell his bike. The ground was safe with the exception of the large gully that had trapped the Dodge. Mason saw a lip on the top of the gully that could serve as a springboard for his cycle. He hit the edge and jumped four feet, landing on the other side. Riding a perimeter around the vehicle, he made sure that the coast was clear. Seeing the slumped pile of human remains in the dirt, he squeezed his clutch lever and slowed to a halt. A cloud of flies, disturbed by his arrival, flew up into the air angry at Mason’s intrusion. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination but he thought he could hear their buzzing over his motor. Mason saw the body but tried to be distant, scientific, like Veronica would be. He took note of its decaying wounds but tried to not let the reality of it in. He killed the engine and leaned his bike on the truck.

Tony wasn’t the motorcycle enthusiast that Mason was. He decelerated before hitting the gully and left his bike to idle on the kickstand. He jumped the gully, just not on his motorcycle. He landed on the dry grass with an awkward thump. Opening the driver’s door, his senses were assaulted by the decaying fermentation of Josh’s body. The smell pushed Tony back as if it were a physical force. He swung out, away from the baking cloud and hung from the door by his hand. He made an audible groan. Mason heard and lifted his head over the truck bed to check on his friend.

“What’s up?” he inquired.

“Open the door, air it out!” Tony declared, sure that he would never forget the sour smell.

The flies settled back to their work of eating and laying eggs in the rotting corpse. Mason walked carefully around, not wishing to disturb their toil for some strange reason, and opened the passenger’s door. A light breeze blew through the cab sending the stink of rotting flesh in Mason’s face. His squinted down hard at the wretched air.

Inside the cab, he saw the work that Lance’s twelve-gauge had done. The tissue around the exposed meat that once made up the seated man had curled back on itself forming bizarre skin blossoms. His midsection had bloated and filled with gas. The disgusting juicy bits that should be dark red or even brown from exposure to heat and air had turned a greenish black. Mason noticed this distinction by way of comparison to the exposed muscle of the corpse on the ground. One was in the heat of the truck all day, and the other wasn’t, but there was another difference. The sad fly covered scoop of human remains lacked the same smell. It smelled like rotting meat, without the tinge of ammonia. He would remember what he had seen for Veronica. She would want to know all about his observations.

Tony took a deep breath, held it, and shot his arm into the cab to find the hood release lever. He pulled the lever and quickly threw the drivers seat forward to look for the jumper cables. He scrambled his right hand around in a hectic search. He felt the cables and pulled them free. Kicking the door closed, he fell on the ground.

“That … is … fucking … disgusting,” he gasped.

Mason walked to the front of the truck and opened the hood. Much to his relief, he saw that the battery was undamaged. He pulled a wrench from the cargo pocket of his camouflage pants and started to remove the battery. Tony got to his feet, coiled up the loose strands of jumper cable while walking to Mason’s bike and put the cable in the milk crate. He saw the flies. He saw the body, so pathetic and forlorn, piled in an impossibly uncomfortable position. The man’s arms were splayed out in opposite directions that must have dislocated something somewhere. Tony quickly turned and pulled off his helmet. He thought he was going to throw up his very soul. He leaned on the back of the truck breathing heavily. The image of the body sat in his thoughts. It was so sad and distorted; it hardly looked like it was once a person; a person with hopes and dreams. The finality of the man’s death, the indignity of his last resting place brought hot tears to Tony’s eyes. He knew that he couldn’t fall apart now. Things had to be done. He thought about the girls at the shack and about Jack who needed his help. He remembered his Shakespeare and tales of proud deeds. He had to steel his heart for just a little bit longer.

Mason moved from the front of the truck to his bike. He placed the battery in the milk crate and jiggled it to check its stability. Tony quickly replaced his helmet to hide his expression. Mason thought Tony resembled a villain from a bad eighties science fiction movie with his plastic armor and combat gear. Under other circumstances he would have given Tony a hard time, but not now. He mounted his bike and kicked at the starter.

Running back to his motorcycle, Tony mumbled to himself within his helmet.

“Once more into the breach, dear friends.” The phrase both encouraged him and caused him to shutter. Shakespeare never failed to choke him up.

Once they had climbed the grade back to the road, the men engaged their throttles on full. Mason led and Tony followed.

THIRTY-FIVE

Lance tugged at his bonds secretly, not wishing to call attention to his actions and alert the girls. Slowly, he moved his wrists apart, testing the tape’s strength. He thought he could break through the remainder of the tape with a strong jerk, but if he was wrong, the game was up. If only the girls would leave him alone again, then he could finish chewing through the tape. The thought made his broken tooth throb even more.

“What time is it?” Nikki asked eyeing Lance.

“Seven forty-five,” Veronica answered, staring through the slats of the shack towards the road. She looked back at Nikki and paced forward a bit. The waiting was taking its toll on Veronica’s nerves. She wanted to help the men, to act and play a part in their survival. She felt a touch of that old fear that she had as a little girl, when her father wanted to leave her to help dig survivors from the rubble. No longer a little girl, the woman in her still feared that she might not see Jack and Tony again.