Running with the Horde (17 page)

Chapter 29

“Mark and the Boys & 262”

             
The nearest car dealership was Friendly Chevrolet about a mile up the road on Highway 65. I made my way there at a moderately slow pace. The highway was jammed up worse than it had been on my walk home from the hospital.

             
As I drove on the shoulder past the wreckages, many cars still contained undead drivers and passengers that couldn’t get out. Just another appalling image to fall asleep to at night. Nearing the dealership, I was pleased to see part of the fence was smashed in but the lot was still loaded with many pristine vehicles. Rioters may care about guns and fences but zombies didn’t give a damn.

             
Parking the wheezing old truck in the service road, I went the rest of the way to the fence on foot. Inside the grounds, the floor to ceiling windows to the sales floor had been smashed in and a few zombies lingered in there but I paid them no mind as I headed inside.

             
The keys to all the vehicles were in a bin under a desk. I took the whole thing, which was heavy, and headed back outside and made for the long row of SUVs. I settled on a brand new Equinox because it was small enough to navigate tight spaces but still afforded me ample storage space and a place to sleep if I needed to. I wanted the four wheel drive as well just in case I had to drive through ditches.

             
I tried almost 40 sets of keys before I realized they were labeled. I found the right set after a few more minutes rooting through the bin. She fired up right away. I even had a remote starter to go with it. On top of that the gas tank was full, I was having a good day.

             
I decided to let the SUV get nice and toasty while I unloaded my bag in the trunk. When I got out I was immediately assaulted by sound and movement from across the four-lane highway. There was a large group of zombies going nuts in the trailer court beyond the drainage ditch. I had missed them in my haste to find a new car.

             
Score one for keeping my head on a swivel.

             
A surge of crackling energy like a cloud became visible as I closed my eyes to concentrate. I focused on shutting everything else out of my mind. The energy reached out like lightening and I took a step back in shock as I felt it hit me.

             
Just like that I was connected to the horde. This was an experience on an entirely different level from my cheap parlor tricks and square-dancing zombies.

             
I knew instantly there were 262 zombies completely surrounding the double-wide trailer and more on the way from all points of the compass drawn by the same energy I now felt coursing through my body. I knew why they were there as well. There were three people hiding inside a barricade of cheap fiberglass and second-hand furniture. Their hearts were pounding like jack hammers.

             
Fear pulsed out from the trailer in waves that I could smell, pure unfiltered terror of the zombies outside their door. The cowering people were inadvertently pouring gas on a raging inferno. I strained myself further, fists clenched and brow furrowed in deep concentration. I could hear them, faintly at first then louder like turning up the volume on a radio.

             
A little boy was crying. A man sang softly. The third person was snoring deeply. I wondered how anyone keep sleep through that noise. He or she had to be very young or very sick.

             
I wished I had a better view.

             
A millisecond later I was staring at a flimsy door. No, I was pounding on it like a maniac! A pair of gnarly looking hands were yanking on the door knob next to me while I hammered on it. It was a very counterproductive process but damn we wanted in! I felt the crush of bodies behind me. I looked up to the roof, a few adventurous undead were hopping up and down on it like crazy clowns.

             
Panic hit me when I realized what was happening and I stopped hammering on the door. The next moment I was hurled bodily into the door by the crowd. For one panic-filled second I expected to be crushed by zombies. Then, in a heartbeat, it was over. I was breathing hard on my knees on the cold pavement next to my SUV. 

             
Overcome with dread and confusion, it was difficult to think straight. Yet I had to get myself under control. The memory of the crying child and singing man made my heart hurt. They desperately required my attention and time was short, the zombies were almost in.

             
Images of stop signs and red lights fired from my mind like machine gun bullets but the zombies wouldn’t let up. My connection had been severed and I had to get it back.

             
Scrambling back into the car, I closed my eyes and gripped the steering wheel for support. In the blink of an eye the connection was back.

             
Power vibrated in my mind and rippled throughout my body. I was careful not to accidentally jump to any particular point of view because I wasn’t sure how to get back out without losing the connection again.

             
Instead I focused on the energy itself, embracing it, trying to find the source.

             
The source was everywhere, humming inside the brain of every zombie.

             
The door was starting to buckle in its frame, I was running out of options. The image of a giant light switch popped into my head. The switch was currently in the on position twitching with power.

             
I reached up with both hands to turn it off.

             
It wouldn’t budge. Energy crackled out of it like a science experiment on steroids. I put my legs and back into it and redoubled my effort, pulling down as hard as I could.

             
I let out a raging scream as the switch flipped off. The energy blinked off and all was silent. I opened my eyes surprised to find I had ripped the steering wheel off the drive shaft. The sight across the street was even more surreal. The zombies had dropped in their tracks. They were all dead. For real dead. I knew without even checking.              

             
I dropped the steering wheel, hopped out of the useless SUV and jogged back through the hole in the fence and across the highway toward the double wide.

             
The area around the trailer was covered in bodies which I had to carefully step around. I stepped on some by accident. They were squishy, it was a bummer. I got up to the first step of a little red deck and listened carefully for movement from the inside.

             
It was dead silent. Using a voice I hoped sounded cheerful I called out, “Hello?” There was no answer but I thought I could hear movement inside.

             
I really didn’t want to get shot so I moved back off the step and backed away from the trailer stumbling over bodies.

             
“It’s okay,” I yelled louder, “I was in the neighborhood and saw this crowd out here. I was trying to figure out how to draw them away but then they just dropped to the ground. They’re all dead…I mean, really dead.”

             
Sounds of moving furniture could be heard as the man pulled objects away from the door. He was talking under his breath to a child in an anxious voice. The door pulled open with a tired thunk and an arm holding a gun eased its way out.

             
The rest of the man’s body stayed hidden inside. I didn’t think it was a very tactically sound position, he wasn’t even pointing the gun at me but I didn’t offer this critique. It didn’t seem like the right time, the man was obviously stressed out.

             
“Who are you? I will shoot you,” the man called out in a tired voice.

             
“I really hope you don’t. I’m just from the neighborhood. I was car shopping across the street and it looked like you were in a pinch. I was just checking if you needed help. I have food and water and stuff but I can go if you want,” I said.

             
“Who you gonna shoot, daddy?” a small voice said. There was movement from further back inside the trailer.

             
“Jacob, just sit still! I told you not to move, let daddy talk to the man.”

             
It was too late though, Jacob was out of his hiding spot and through the door in two shakes. He was a tiny little boy about four years old with a tangle of curly brown hair. He stood on the little deck, mouth open staring at the bodies on the ground.

             
Dad meanwhile was cursing and stumbling out the door behind him, his gun dropped and forgotten in the entryway. He scooped up Jacob and made as if to head back inside the trailer. Then he too was transfixed by the scene around him. His startled gaze finally found me standing fifteen feet in front of him with my hands in the pockets of my coat. He almost dropped the boy.

             
“What happened to them?” he stammered.

             
“I don’t know, they just…died?” I lied, “One moment they were pounding away at your door and the next they just dropped.”

             
“How do you know they’re really dead?”

             
“Well I guess I don’t,” poking at a body near my feet with my shoe, “They sure seem dead though.”

             
He watched me poke at the body like I was playing footsy with a dozing rattlesnake.

             
“Stop that! Are you nuts?” he remembered his gun and was doing a panicked search for it while Jacob struggled in his arms.

             
“Its fine,” I said calmly, “I think they’re really dead.” But I stopped poking the dead zombie, it seemed like the guy was pretty close to his breaking point and it wouldn’t do to make things worse for the kids.

             
“You
think
?!” he shouted incredulously, “I’ve been trapped in this tin box for almost a whole day with two little boys. Five minutes ago it sounded like a fucking tornado was trying to rip the walls down to get at us and you
think
!”

             
At the dropping of the F bomb Jacob was scandalized and went very still in his father’s arms. He turned his wide eyes up to his dad.

             
“Daddy, you said a naughty,” he said this softly with a degree of awe. Evidently, Daddy never said naughtys.

             
“Sorry, Jake,” the man said.

             
He looked mortified, like Jacob had caught him kissing a woman who wasn’t his mother instead of swearing. He smiled and ruffled Jacob’s hair. In that moment I knew I would take a bullet for either of them. Managing to preserve little civilities like not swearing when you were trying to feed and shelter two small children during a zombie apocalypse spoke a lot to the strength of the man’s character. I would have been cussing incessantly.

             
“Look, sir,” I said sincerely, “I can only imagine what you’ve been through. I’m sure it’s been awful, it’s not been easy for me either. I promise.”

             
He and Jacob just watched me warily.

             
“I am willing to help if you want. I told you I have food. You can have anything you need but if you’re coming with me it needs to be soon. There could be more of them any minute.”

             
“How do I know you’re okay?” he asked.

             
He was terrified of going with me. He was terrified not to. I didn’t need him to clarify what he meant by okay. I thought of my ill-fated time with the Flowers and the Swansons with a shudder.

             
“You don’t know, there’s nothing I can do about that but you have your gun and I’m unarmed so you have that. Are you coming or not?” I turned to go.

             
“Wait! Yes, were coming! But look I’ve got another kid inside, my son, Sam. He’s sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with him but he’s bad and getting worse. Is it still okay we come with you?”

             
The pleading in his voice was heartbreaking. I looked at him gravely and then nodded slowly like it was a tough decision. It was no big deal about the second kid, it wasn’t like I didn’t know about him already.

             
He disappeared quickly back inside still carrying Jacob. I jogged back to the steps and called out if I could help him. He appeared in the doorway looking haggard.

“Y
eah,” he said, “Come on in.” Then he dashed back in.

             
Note to self, he got over trust issues quickly.

             
It stunk inside the trailer but then everything did these days so that was no surprise. I stepped into a tiny kitchen, an overturned table and four chairs were blocking a hallway. A big pressed-wood dresser stood right inside the door. It was the barricade. How it prevented the zombies for getting in was a mystery.