Rotten (16 page)

At the final stop along the road, which was Bob Arnett’s place, Will found pictures of he and his dad, and one of his dad’s favorite fishing hats.  Princess said she could tell Will was crying, but he sucked it up and pretended he had dirt in his eye.  They also found some more gas, a little more food, and several rolls of duct tape. Princess found a couple quilts that she said she could sell for several hundred dollars each at her gallery, at least she could have if her gallery still existed. When they pulled into the driveway it looked like a scene from
The Grapes of Wrath
or
The Beverly Hillbillies
with those rocking chairs stuck on the back of the truck, but all and all they did well in adding to our supplies.

That evening at dinner Sully didn’t say much and drank a bottle of wine while Princess, Rotten, and Will talked about their day.  When the story came to the zombied Mrs. Simpson all eyes turned to Sully and we grew quiet. 

“Sully, are you okay?”  Mrs. Williams said softly.

“Yeah, how’d you learn to shoot like that?  I thought you were a teacher,” Will said.

Sully looked away from the windows to us.  “Yes, I’m okay.  It’s not how I ever envisioned my life, never planned for this type of retirement.”  He laughed harshly.  “Will, my father was a world war two vet and he raised us to know how to handle a weapon.  I suppose he was a good father in that he provided for us financially, but he wasn’t a pleasant man.  He wasn’t a nice man at all, but to the outside world we had it all.  Sundays were the day he taught us to be tough, even my little sister who was the girliest girl I have ever known, and guns were a part of that.”  He shook his head slowly.  “Every Sunday morning when others were in church we had shooting practice from the time I was a very young boy until I left for college.  I literally have not touched a gun in thirty years, but I guess there are some things you don’t forget.”

“Except the safety, you forgot the safety.” Will laughed.

“Well, there is that.” Sully smiled.  “I was thinking about Mrs. Simpson, decomposition had set in pretty well with her, and I am guessing she turned when it all started six days ago since she was alone and locked in her house.”

“Then why didn’t she burn when the sun came up, her place had lots of windows,” Princess asked.

“I don’t know, but a zombie has no respiration, it’s cells die pretty quickly and it begins to decay like any other dead thing, so maybe all we have to do is wait them out for a couple months until they are nothing but bone.”

“The problem with that is most aren’t locked up and are spreading the disease, it’s probably a biological imperative to spread it once they are infected, like any parasite,” Highland said.  “So even if the first to be infected start to just decay away and drop dead, there are still all those that they bit, if biting is the only way it spreads.  I’m pretty sure it’s not airborne, but I don’t know if contact with the body fluids could spread it.  There’s so much we don’t know despite all the zombie movies we’ve watched.  Either way, we need to get into Arlington and prepare to be on our own for a long time.”

We were quiet for a while and then the subject changed to getting to Arlington.  The route that led into the small town was a state road that had been in use since well before the Interstate system came through.  It was still well traveled by those wanting to escape the boredom of the highway and enjoy the sights of rural South Carolina.  It dead ended at a junction in one direction, and led through Arlington, over the bridge, and into Freemont at the other.  

“So before the news crapped out they said there were roadblocks here.”  Highland pointed to one of the maps Sully had found that day.  “I don’t know if they had literal roadblocks or just police stopping traffic, but I’d like to check that end of road before we go into town.”

“And depending on what we find in Arlington, we may block that road ourselves to keep the crazies out,” Moonshine said.

“You know the news looping the earthquake and flood again and again might be to our benefit.  If there are people out there stealing and raping, they’d probably think there was nothing in this area, and if there are self-professed rulers looking for a tribe, they will also think no one is here,” I said, pretty much repeating what Highland, Moonshine and I had discussed earlier in the day. 

Day Seven

Wednesday

December 17, 2014

We left right after breakfast, dressed in layers, with duct tape around as many fleshy parts of our bodies as we could cover and pulled out in two cars - Moonshine and Princess in the truck, and Highland, Rotten, and I in the Jeep.  We parked on the dirt road, just out of sight of the blacktop and got out to listen.  We waited for fifteen minutes and besides a few squirrels complaining about our presence we heard nothing.  We had no idea what to expect, so we didn’t have any other plan except to stay close and keep our radios and guns ready. 

We turned onto the pavement, Highland behind the wheel and in the lead, and drove slowly.  The two-lane highway had wide shoulders of grass on each side, which led to stands of pine, and was deserted, but coming around a curve we saw a house.  It was a low white bungalow and had pansies blooming in containers on each side of the front porch.  It was set far off the street and was heavily landscaped with evergreen bushes and trees, giving it a bit of privacy and separation from passersby.  We decided to check it out on our way back from the roadblock and let the others know over the radio.  We saw another house not far away on the opposite side of the road, added it to our list to investigate, and then passed nothing but woods, empty pastures, and a couple signs announcing the upcoming junction.

We came out of a curve into a straightaway and could see the junction in the distance.  Highland stopped and Moonshine pulled along side him.  Princess leaned out of the truck window with the binoculars and said, “Looks like a bunch of cars, but I don’t see anyone moving.”

We moved forward, the vehicles side by side, and the scene before us grew clearer.  Bright orange wooden sawhorses blocked the road, and parked on either side in the grass were two black unmarked sedans.  In the middle of the intersection several cars were parked haphazardly, and on two of them the driver’s side door was open.  We didn’t see any movement, but did see a leg sticking out in front of one of the sedans.  

“Let’s turn the cars around before we get out,” I said.  “In case we need to haul ass.”

We parked within about twenty yards of the scene, our vehicles facing the way we’d just come, and climbed out slowly, acknowledging the scent of death in the air with a glance.  I made sure the safety was off my pistol and although I felt uncomfortable with it in my hand, I was grateful to have it.  We moved toward the scene in a group, the guys in front, and Princess and I behind. 

“I sure as hell don’t know how that happened,” I said, studying the body dressed in a black unmarked uniform that lay in front of the sedan, at least the part that still remained.  The top half of the body was missing, cut diagonally from shoulder to hip, leaving no head, a single arm, and one of the legs was sheared off at the knee. 

“Probably from the wreck.” Moonshine nodded toward the intersection where a truck had rear-ended an SUV.  “If he was standing at the back of the SUV when that truck hit I bet it could have cut him up like that.”

Mystery solved, we glanced into the car, noticing the caged backseat, and only found some fast food wrappers and a half eaten sub. 

“We should be looking under the cars, too,” Princess said, and we all jumped back a couple steps and moved to the center of the road. 

“Duh,” I said, dropping to my knees to look under all the cars.  “I don’t see anything.” 

I stood up just as we heard a thud coming from the direction of the other sedan parked on the grass.  Moonshine stepped closer, his height allowing him to see down into the seat, and shook his head.  “There’s somebody in there, backseat.”  He raised his gun, and stepped closer.  “Yep, shackled zombie in the back seat.” 

I checked the underneath of the car again and we all stepped closer, peering through the window.  The man in the caged area of the car had both his hands and feet restrained behind his back by white plastic tie locks.  He wore khakis and a sweater over a collared shirt, but now his clothes were soaked in fluids from both the decay of his zombification and the blood from the huge whole in his throat and chest.  He thrashed, rolling back and forth on his stomach, his teeth snapping. 

“Damn,” Moonshine said. 

“He was shackled before he turned, I wonder why they tied him up like that.”  Highland looked back at the cars on the highway.  

“Maybe he lived in Arlington and made a big deal about going through the roadblock.  That’s probably his BMW right there.”  Rotten nodded to the silver car pulled over on the grass a few yards away.

“It doesn’t really matter, we have to kill it,” Highland said, raising his pistol to the glass.

“Let’s think about this a minute,” I said.  “If you shoot through the glass it’s going to stink to high heaven out here, he may be still moving, but he is rotting.”  I pointed at the restraints on the man where the flesh was wearing away and exposing dark moist tissue over the shine of bone.  “Maybe we could open the door, shoot it, and slam the door back, it’ll stink, but not as bad.” 

“Yeah, but if we open the door the thing might lurch out and bite someone, too risky,” Rotten said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I conceded. 

Highland raised his pistol and fired.  The zombie thrashed harder and the glass in the car door simply showed a pockmark where the bullet hit.  “Freaking bullet proof glass,” he said, lowering the gun. 

“Who the hell are these men in black?”  Rotten glanced back at the ravaged carcass in front of the other sedan. 

“Men in black.”  Moonshine laughed under his breath.  “I told you it was the aliens.” 

“Okay, we could either leave it here, or we open the door and shoot it.”  Highland looked at us. 

“What the fuck?”  Princess raised her gun in the direction of the roadblocks.

We all turned, our guns ready, and saw it.  It was the missing half of the man in the black uniform and he came toward us, teeth snapping, like a giant, quick-moving, snail.  It pulled itself along with a single hand, dragging its head and torso over the blacktop and under the sawhorse.

“What the fuck!” Moonshine yelled and we all fired at the same time.  The thing dragged itself a few more inches and then collapsed just a few yards away. 

“Damn, that was nasty.” Princess shuddered.   

“Where’d it come from?” Moonshine squatted down and peered under the cars.

“Maybe behind one of the wheels, it’s small enough to hide there,” I said.  “Let’s take care of the one in the back seat, check the rest of the cars and get out of here, I’m getting creeped out.”

“Yeah, the noise may draw them out, it does in the movies.”  Moonshine turned back to the sedan and reached for the front door handle. 

“Wait a minute, the smell’s getting worse,” I said, looking into the trees.

“It’s that thing.”  Moonshine indicated the partial torso on the road with a nod.

“No, Dove’s right, the smell is getting stronger and it’s coming from that direction.”  Princess pointed to our vehicles.