The Queen of the Dead (24 page)

“Are we still alive?”

“Yup. Still alive and kicking. We’re going to see what John Wayne can do to help us out.”

“I hope he’s nice.”

“We’ll see.”

She reached her arm over his neck and held his shoulder. She wanted to be carried like a lover from a burning city. She wanted to escape with him and drown in his blood beneath an overpass. She wanted to feel him die without fear, believing at the very end that his life wasn’t a waste.

You want him more than you’ve wanted anything. He’s yours…

Mina kissed the flesh beneath his jaw.

She heard the rumbling engine before the headlights blinded her.

“Civilians!” a man shouted. “Stop where you are!”

Father stopped escorting her toward the light. “We’re not armed,” he announced. “This woman needs your help. We’re not bit!”

“Can priests lie?” the voice asked through the light.

“Is that a trick question?” Father Martinez fired back. “We’re exposed out here in the street and you’re attracting attention.”

“Are you a foreigner? You look foreign to me. You Mexican?”

“Left my ID at the border,” Father said. “This woman barely has clothes on, man!”

A door opened and closed. Mina could feel herself being dragged by an extra pair of hands. She was helped into the backseat of a vehicle Mina faintly recognized; she remembered Jim stealing an army vehicle and shooting down a helicopter. She’d eaten a serviceman while sitting in the passenger seat, gorging on the flesh of the living.

The doors closed. A large machine gun that might’ve been taller than her if it stood on end lay between the seats, along with two large duffel bags. Father Joe sat beside her in the rear. In the front, a young man in army gear that was two sizes too big for him cowered on the passenger seat, a camouflaged hat covering his eyes.

The driver turned around and looked at both of them. A black man with white, piercing eyes, and flecks of gray in his patchy beard; he wore jungle fatigues, which seemed out of place considering the soldiers she saw at the asylum had been wearing uniforms with gray camouflage patterns. He wasn’t wearing protective gear; just the uniform and his hat, like the boy in the passenger seat. The two gold stars on his hat featured dirt-blackened edges. The clothes hung on his body like wet towels on a clothesline.

Inside the vehicle, the man’s smell was familiar and unpleasant. It reminded her of the days she spent in the alleys before she met Patrick. It was the smell of near-death, or of a grime-encrusted soul that could never be clean.

Planted on the dashboard were four severed heads, each one skinned to bloody bone.

Father cleared his throat. “I see you’ve been fighting the good fight.”

“What’s wrong with the woman?” the man ignored Father’s comment. “She’s indecent! What’ve you been up to, Priest?”

In turn, Father ignored the question. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Father Joe, and this is Mina. She’s in shock, and we figured you could help us. I know some people who would really like to see you, sir.”

“You know your rank, Father,” the man was at ease. “I’m General Masters, and you’ll address me as such. We’re going to take this city back from those dead bastards out there, you hear me? That’s what we’re doing, so be prepared to fight! Our mission is to get back to Selfridge Air Base and hook up with the 127th Wing to help defend our country against these scum! This is
our
country, Father.”

“I agree,” Father said. “How about we start driving? I know where you can help save more Americans, General Masters, sir.”

“We’ll save anybody we can, God willing. I hope you’ve been praying, Father, and I hope you’re not afraid to see a little blood.”

The general turned around and put the vehicle in gear. They lurched forward, and the priest leaned over the seat. “General, sir, who’s this young man up here with you? Is he hurt? Is there anything I can do?”

“That’s Chavo’s son,” General Masters said. “A fine American boy. His father was a good man. Took good care of me, because I fought for freedom so he could have it. He knew. He knew all along, you see. I kept his store safe, and I kept Chavo safe for years. Changed this boy’s diapers. He’s a fine American boy.”

Which one should we taste, first?

Mina shuddered.

Father Joe sank back into his seat and put a hand on Mina’s shoulder. “The general’s going to help us. Selfridge will be a safe place with lots of soldiers.”

“Soldiers are delicious,” Mina said. “I don’t know if they’re my favorite. I wanted to try a little girl’s brain but she ran away before I could.”

“What’d she say?” General Masters asked.

“She’s sick,” Father Joe said. “She’s been talking about medication. I found her right before I bumped into you.”

“You think doctors know what they’re talking about? The best medicine is the same shit you can use to set the jungle on fire.”

Mina noticed the general’s hands shaking violently while he tried to steer the vehicle. He didn’t seem to know what all the controls could do. He was much older than a soldier ought to be.  

The boy wasn’t moving, though he blinked. He breathed.

“Zombies!” the general shouted. “This is the fight we’re meant to fight, right Father? This is Hell on Earth right here, and we haven’t lost yet. We’ve got God and guns and our side, and there ain’t no stopping us.”

Chavo’s son moaned.

“We can kill every last one of these bastards. Just waiting for the cavalry to arrive and set things right. I been prayed over and I got the power of bullets and the blood of America to keep me alive and all of us alive! You hear me?”

The boy’s eyes closed. Mina wondered if he would stop breathing; that would be a waste of a good meal.

Father turned to her and said, “I’ve got some clothes for you. You’ll meet some nice people. There’s Kathy, who knows a lot about—”

“Where’d you say we’re going?” General Masters asked. “I ain’t got all the gas in the world.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, you’ll have to turn…”

The Humvee stopped.

“Can’t see a damn thing through all this rain!” General Masters shook his head. “Looks like we got to move… three cars, son.”

The boy didn’t move.

“That car in the road needs to be moved,” the general said. “Remember what we’re fighting for? Remember there’re good people depending on us, and it’s our duty…” he pointed his finger at the boy’s face. “…that’s an order, Private! Get yer ass out there!”

“That isn’t necessary,” Father said. “It’s not too far away. Within walking distance, really. You don’t have to risk your lives…”

“I gave an order!” General Masters spat his words. He opened his door and left the vehicle, while Chavo’s son didn’t move.

“I can help,” Father said and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Can you tell me what happened to your dad?”

“Priest!” the general roared. “You listening? We have to inspire others to kill the enemy. Chavo wanted his boy to give back to the country that gave him a chance. Do you know what that means? I spent hours… man, we talked for
hours
, let me tell you. Chavo understood. His brother, Hector, he didn’t really get it.”

Mina leaned forward and looked into the eyes of Chavo’s son.

Touch him and know. Touch him and feel him. He’ll be one of us, soon. He knows it, and he can feel it. We’re pulling him closer to us…

“One of them bit you,” Mina realized. “You don’t want to be one. They only go to one place when they die.”

Father Joe opened his mouth to speak, but Chavo’s son put his hand on the door handle, pushed it open, and leapt into the street.

Mina didn’t want to sit in the Humvee by herself; she followed Father into the scattered rain.

Chavo’s son ran over the hoods of several cars that blocked the road; he ran without a cry or shout. He was determined to run right into the arms of a crowd.

“NO!” General Masters screamed. “Get back here! That’s an order, soldier!”

The boy disappeared in the headlights, dragged into the pavement by an aroused group of corpses. The priest leapt atop a car and trailed after the boy, who refused to scream. There was no other sound besides the priest’s feet upon the cars. Father pushed aside several of the zombies, and they staggered backward while he picked the boy up from the concrete, cradling him in his arms, the hat no longer on his head. One of the zombies reached out, grabbed the boy’s dangling arm, and ripped him out of Father Joe’s arms.

The general had run back to the Humvee and grabbed the massive machine gun. Heaving it over his shoulder, he stood on the Hummer’s hood, trailing a belt of bullets like a bride trailing the train of her wedding dress.

Mina surprised herself by yelling, “Father, look out!”

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY COUNTRY YOU ZOMBIE SCUMBAGS!”

The rapid-fire gun was louder than the thunder. She plugged her ears but it was useless. Firepower lit up the night, and the grizzled general who looked moth-eaten and half-dead stood with his gun and swept it over the street, destroying anything a bullet could find. Father Joe had disappeared. Corpses jostled by the gunfire lost their remaining body parts, and skulls were blasted into fragments as pieces of face were ripped apart.

Zombies stomped through the rain toward the general. Bullets were chewed up by the weapon as scattered corpses fell atop one another in the street that had become one large parking lot. Headlamps shattered, windows burst, and tires sagged.

For every fallen zombie, four others replaced it. They stumbled over each other and clawed their way forward through the debris. Waves of them flooded the street from open doorways as if they’d been waiting for something to happen. It was only a matter of time before the general was overwhelmed.

You’re going to watch him die. They’ll rip him to pieces and nobody will remember him.

Father Joe was still out there. A perfect stranger like Patrick on the day she stepped out of the alley, Father stepped out of the darkness and threw his arm over her shoulders. He offered comforting words and asked for nothing in return.

The trail of bullets along the pavement was going to disappear through the gun. There were seconds left.

“Get back,” Mina muttered.

The living dead surrounded the general. Their faces were alight in the gun’s maniac glow.

“Get back!” Mina shouted.

That’s it. Don’t you feel it?

“Get back, all of you!”

We are one, you and I. We are one and they are many.

Reaching hands dropped. Heads turned, confused, looking for a sound only they could hear.

A terrible roar vibrated in her throat and exploded through her mouth. “GET BACK!”

The gun clicked, and General Masters was screaming over the gunfire that was no longer there. Hundreds of dead people ignored him.

They walked away.

All this power is ours. Let them bow to you. Let them love you; let them need you and worship you.

You created them. You’re their mother.

General Masters dropped to his knees on the hood of the truck, and Mina dropped, too. She wanted to sleep forever in the rain and blood. She could hear the gun clicking, an empty death-dealer that was out of time. The dead fell back into the shadows, and the general blubbered like a baby.

Bring them back and bring these fools to their knees. Let them join you forever!

“I don’t know you,” she mumbled to herself.

The silence had all the power of a shocking confession from a lover. Father Joe emerged. Mina smiled; the man who wanted to help her was okay.

“They’re leaving, General, and we need to be going with them,” Father said. “I’m here. We can do this together.”

“The boy!” General Masters protested. “I made a promise to Chavo.”

“You didn’t break your promise,” Father said, while performing the sign of the cross. “We’re still alive, and we have the power to help others. That’s how more people survive—that’s how
we
survive. I can’t do this without you. I made a promise, too. I don’t have to give you a lecture about life and death, but I can tell you, we’re going to see this again and again. We’re going to feel this again and again, and we can’t stop trying to do what’s right.”

The priest coughed into his fist, though his throat probably wasn’t dry. He looked uncomfortable, like he was sitting at a dinner table full of strippers and devil-worshippers, and he was the only one who brought a fork.

“They got him before I could,” Father said. “I really tried. I’m sorry.”

“He was a good soldier.” General Masters sobbed. “He gave his life for his country. He needs to have a soldier’s funeral. He should be honored for the sacrifice he made.”

Father grabbed the weird old man who was dressed up like a soldier. “Look at me, General. There’re people who need you. Mina needs you, too.”

Father helped him to his feet. General Masters detached from the priest and walked through the bright headlights. He couldn’t lift his gaze from the pavement.