Transformation (22 page)

“OK then. Hoods please. We will be checking out.”

Cap stood still, hands behind her back. She was at a loss for words. She didn’t expect to hear a no.

“OK. Would you like to join us for dinner before you leave? The sun’s getting low and I don’t like my men out after dark.”

“Are you now saying we can’t leave?”

“Well, I can’t let you walk out of here, and it will be dark soon. So why don’t you just stay the night? Meet everyone. Take a rest.”

Cooper looked at Rachael again. “Seems like we have to stay a bit.” She didn’t look at him. But she spoke.

“Just show us to where we will be sleeping and leave us alone until tomorrow, dawn. We leave at first light.”

Cooper and Rachael were escorted to the pool house. It was a small two bedroom house. No one else was currently occupying it.

Rachael followed Cooper into a room. “I’m not sleeping alone.”

“OK” They settled in. Cooper fell asleep. Rachael paced the room.

About twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Dinner was brought to them. Rachael refused to eat any of it.

“You OK?” Cooper sat by her on the bed. “Am I missing something?”

“No. I’m just freaked out. The hood and all that shit. I don’t know, I just want to be away from here.”

“Don’t worry. We leave tomorrow whether they like it or not.”

They heard the front door open. “Come meet your new roommate.”

Cooper and Rachael walked out of the room together. They both stopped short and felt the blood drain from their faces. Ben was standing at the front door alongside and armed guard. Ben had a smile so big it had to hurt his face.

At some point Rachael grabbed Cooper’s hand—or maybe he grabbed hers.

“Hi,” he said and waved. “I’m Ben.”

“He came along right after you guys.”

It hadn’t occurred to Cooper that they would bring Ben in too. He knew Ben was following right behind them. He should have foreseen this possibility.

“Wait.” Cooper started to object but the man ignored him and pulled the door shut.

Ben walked towards them, eyes locked on Rachael. “Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun, aren’t we kids?”

24.

Jeff stood on the edge of the roof and looked about. The parking lot was layered in corpses. He thought he’d seen a few wander off, but they were far enough away that he couldn’t be sure how far they may have gotten. He went back to camp, as he was calling it.

“I think they’re all dead. I don’t know what to do about Ron, but I want to get back to the structure with you.”

Wendy was sitting in a folding chair and leaning back on two feet against the giant AC unit. She was flipping through a magazine. She tossed it and dropped the chair to four feet when Jeff walked over.

“I want to get going too. I’m going crazy up here.”

“If Sal’s still alive he would make his way back, don’t you think?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah,” Wendy muttered as she walked past Jeff. “I’m going to look around.”

“Actually . . . “ Jeff said and Wendy turned around. “Actually I was coming over to say I want to leave, and I think the only way is to walk through all the bodies and find a vehicle.”

“Yep,” Wendy said. “Let’s go.”

Jeff hoisted his giant bag, and they started towards the hatch hole.

Inside again they were heading towards the front door when Jeff stopped them. “We should actually go out the back way.”

They turned and went to the back door. Jeff kicked the rearmost emergency door open. It went a few inches and stopped.

“Bodies,” was all he said. He put his bag down and put his shoulder into the door and pushed. He got it about a foot and a half open. He stuck his head out for a moment.

“There’s a big delivery van out back. I’m going to look for the keys.”

Wendy walked around the store while Jeff rifled the office. She took the toilet paper from the stalls and supply closet. She also grabbed a big handful of so-called chick flicks. So far, all they’ve been able to watch was all of Jeff’s sci-fi, action adventure, cartoon movie stuff. She headed back to the exit.

“Here,” Jeff smiled as he handed Wendy a key. It had a tag on it that said “roof.”

She smiled and tossed them over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“OK, let’s do this.” Jeff started walking across the bodies, crunching and snapping underfoot at each step. Wendy looked down and waited at the door.

“You can come pick me up.”

Without looking back, Jeff gave her the thumbs up. He still had that giant bag of junk food.

The van roared to life and started forward as Jeff headed over to Wendy. For a few seconds she wasn’t sure what she was hearing but quickly realized it was the van rolling over all the bodies. She plugged her ears and closed her eyes as her stomach turned over.

The snapping and crunching of bones, the pop of skulls and squirting of innards was surprisingly loud. She made the mistake of opening her eyes for a split second. The glimpse of innards squirting in a wet black arc burned in her brain. Her stomach threatened to jump from her mouth. She shut her eyes tight and waited.

Jeff pulled up to the door, driver side closest, and let Wendy in. He helped her crawl across the driver’s seat and soon they were slowly crushing and grinding their way across the parking lot.

The bodies were endless and Jeff had to go slow to keep from spinning the wheels or getting bodies lodged into the undercarriage of the van. He made his way back to the structure.

The view was much the same the entire way back to the garage. Corpses covered every square inch of the ground.

25.

Sal, Dawn, and Cullen waited for Eddie, Gerald, Hope and Egg to return. It was a long awkward silence. Cullen smoked a cigarette and Dawn never took her eyes off Hope.

Egg was led to an access ladder about a quarter mile away then coaxed up it. Sal watched as the kids returned and as they drew closer, he could see that Egg was seriously hurt but he didn’t seem to notice. The lumbering kid walked along on a leg that was clearly broken. He could see the swelling through his pants, the bump where the bone pushed against the skin. It set his teeth on edge and made him nauseated. He had to stop looking at it.

The kids, he thought of them as such since they were so young, led him along the expressway towards the airport. The sun was dropping.

“You don’t talk much.” It was Hope, Dawn’s sister.

Sal looked down at her. “What would I say?”

“I don’t know. Where are you from?”

“Monterey.”

Cullen piped up. “Stop talking to the prisoner.”

Dawn snapped at him. “Fuck you Cullen. She can talk to who she wants.”

Hope looked at Sal. She was a few years younger than Dawn. Clearly she was not as pretty and after only a little conversation she was clearly not as smart either.

“I can see why Dawn likes you.”

Sal remained silent. He felt her hand on his arm. “You’re strong like she likes.”

Sal pulled away.

“I think you’re going to be part of the new people.”

“OK. Hope sweetie. That’s enough.” Dawn shut her down.

Sal stopped. “What does she mean new people?”

Cullen stepped forward but Dawn held her hand up and he stopped.

“She means everyone has to be useful. Everyone has to be strong or they are a hindrance to survival. The old people die and the young ones live. Soon the world will be filled with all new people.”

“You’re a good seed too, apparently,” Cullen said as he looked away from the group.

“Good seed?” Sal thought he knew what he meant.

Cullen turned to him. “Yes. Dawn fancies herself the new Eve. Dawn of a new human race. Get it? Dawn? She actually believes her name is prophetic and this is all a redo, if you will, for the human race. I was the new Adam until now.”

Suddenly Dawn slammed the butt of her rifle into Cullen’s face. She broke a few teeth out and busted his lip. He staggered back, reared up angry and in pain, but he refused to strike back. He glared momentarily at Dawn, but then he started to laugh and bent forward and held his knees.

Sal wondered why Cullen didn’t attack her. He seemed the type to go crazy if someone struck him like that.

“Are you mocking me? Making fun of me?” Dawn was infuriated, but stood relaxed.

Cullen spit a glob of red on the concrete. His beard was wet with blood. Small chips of white stood out in contrast. He just shook his head and laughed.

Sal thought he understood what the girl was thinking. “So Cullen, that name means . . . ?”

“It’s Gaelic for handsome,” Dawn said.

“Well, my name is Salvatore. Sal for short. And it means . . .”

“Savior.” Dawn gasped. “I knew it. Oh my god this is perfect.”

“But I failed the test apparently.”

“No, you . . . Nevermind. You didn’t know I was the Eve yet.”

“No I didn’t. But I still want a distance between us. This all has to sink in for me.”

Dawn was speechless as she smiled and stared at Sal.

The girl was gleeful and it was odd to see. Sal was curious about these kids, young adults. They were so odd. Weird. Sal continued, feeling the tables turning rapidly in his favor.

“But I am still a prisoner? Me, the new Adam. Savior of the human race. Father of the new humanity.”

Hope and Dawn were both all smiles. Cullen was looking angrier by the minute.

“He’s lying. His name’s not Salvatore,” Cullen spat more blood.

“He’s not lying.” And Dawn took Sal’s hand. “Come with me. We will walk together.”

Sal didn’t’ have a weapon, but he didn’t feel like a prisoner anymore either. They walked on. For a few minutes, all was silent. Sal wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He realized that he really wasn’t in a better position than before. The crazy angry guy was angrier, and the crazy horny girl was hornier.

Sal had a thought and spoke with more confidence to the new Eve. “So this is all biblical. A thousand years from now, there’ll be a new bible and you and I will be the two in the Garden of Eden.”

“That’s right. You’re getting it.” Dawn was smiling. She’d clearly thought about it.

“He’s so full of shit Dawn. He’s fucking with you. He’s trying to get in your head and mess with you.”

Sal spoke softly. “Do you feel more confused or less, mother?”

Dawn smiled and layed her head on Sal’s arm. “All is clear, Adam, father.”

Sal spoke softer still as her ear was so close to his mouth. “Who is Satan in this new garden of Eden? Who is trying to beguile you into betraying me?”

Dawn looked up in Sal’s eyes with alarm. She stopped and turned, her gun aimed at Cullen’s head.

“Satan. You’re Satan.”

“Wait.” Sal grabbed her rifle and pointed it upwards. “The mother of all life cannot be a taker of life. We must find the right time and place for this.” This was all so surreal. Sal felt awkward and silly talking this way. But so far it was working.

She lowered her weapon and looked at Cullen. “You are right, father.”

“Good.” Sal went over to Cullen and took his rifle. Now he had all he wanted, control over the crazy. The question now was what to do with them.

“You’re going to want to give me that back,” Cullen said to Sal.

Sal smiled at him like he was a silly kid.

Cullen just pointed behind Sal.

Sal took a few steps back before looking behind himself. What he saw was disheartening. A wall of the dead were coming towards them.

“No exit between us and them. We have to go back.” Sal said. “And you don’t need a weapon,” he said to Cullen.

They all turned and started to walk back the way they came.

“Oh shit.” It was Sal. After a few minutes of walking they saw another wall of corpses coming their way. They were between two herds on the expressway with no means of escape. They were forty feet in the air, and there was no way down other than jumping.

Cullen laughed, “What now mom and dad?”

26.

Weed, yet unseen by Odin, managed to step aside and out of sight. But he didn’t remain hidden for long. He took advantage of those first few seconds when Odin was stunned and gawking at the dead man in his bed, but before it occurred to him to look around for the killer.

Weed grabbed Odin by the hair with his left hand and stabbed him in the side of his neck with the right. He pulled back on his head as he pushed the blade forward cutting through muscle and artery. Odin was dead by the time he hit the floor.

“That’s two.” Weed whispered to himself. He wondered who the other man was;
A brother? A fuck toy? Don’t matter now.

Weed spotted his gun on the way out, sitting on a small dresser with a bunch of other shit. He snatched it up and walked down the hall and to the stairs. The second floor awaited.

There were six rooms on the second floor. Two were padlocked from the outside so they were not bedrooms. He’d come back later and check them out with Ron. It didn’t escape Weed that he thought of Ron as Ron now and not spade, coon, or ghetto monkey.

He opened a door, saw a man face down, and asleep in his underwear. He was one that Weed thought to be an actual threat. He was glad to deal with this one while he was face down and asleep. He’d be much harder to deal with upright and holding a gun. Weed walked quietly towards the prone man and almost fell flat on his face as his ankle caught on something. He’d hit a tripwire.

Cans rattled loudly in the darkness. The man sprung from his bed and was holding a pistol before Weed could raise his knife.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you.” The man flicked on a light. It was the one Weed heard called Falcon earlier. He saw the blood that soaked Weed’s arm.

Weed briefly considered going for his gun, but it occurred to him he hadn’t checked to see if it was loaded.

“What did you do?” Falcon’s eyes shot wide open. The giant man looked stunned, afraid, scared to death. “Hands up.” His voice cracked. “Hands behind your head.”

Falcon dressed awkwardly with one hand, pulling on a tank top and camo pants. Weed just stood and waited. He currently had no other options. He knew better than to attack a man waiting for it. The element of surprise was his greatest advantage.

“Turn around,” Falcon barked. He took Weed’s gun then marched him back to the third floor, pushing and prodding the entire way.

“Please tell me you didn’t . . . “ Falcon pushed Weed into Odin’s room.

“Fuck!” Falcon wailed. “Fuck!” He turned to Weed with tears in his eyes. But his eyes were angry, insane and intense. He jammed his pistol against Weed’s forehead and grabbed him by the throat.

“Why’d you kill him? Why?”

“Oh fuck, I don’t know. Bored?” Weed smiled.

“Asshole!” Falcon started squeezing Weed’s neck and just when Weed was about to give him a good knee to the nuts, he let up and backed over to the bed, gun still on Weed.

“Do you know what you did? Do you know what you did?”

“Tell me. I am in the dark here,” Weed smirked.

“Oh fuck it, you are a race traitor. Now I have to kill you.”

Falcon advanced on Weed. “Walk motherfucker. Walk down the stairs.”

Weed went on down the stairs, a little nervous and a little amused as Falcon sniffed and mumbled like a five year old.

Once outside, just outside the door, Falcon barked orders, “Stop, turn around.”

Weed, ever the gentleman until it was time to be a violent asshole, complied.

“Tell me why you did it. Who are you? I want to know. Did the Jews send you?”

“Well the truth is your daddy was a Jew and I was sent from the temple to collect your foreskin.” Weed guffawed at his own cleverness.

Falcon’s fist shot forward and hit Weed in the face. It felt like a boulder slammed into his jaw. The old man went down, stunned, feeling the darkness creeping in over him, but damn if he wasn’t pissed. He instinctively rolled to one side. He stood up and he was staggering, his face hurt, he tasted blood, and Falcon was coming at him.
Cheap shot,
Weed thought,
hitting a man when he’s appreciating his own genius.

Falcon had his pistol out by the time Weed gained his feet.

“Lucky for you I need to gather all the others for this. Everyone’s going to want a shot at you and the monkey before you two dance for us on the end of those ropes. Now get up and march. You’re spending the night with your coon. Hope you treated him well on the road.”

Weed put his hands up and started hobbling forward. He still entertained the notion of escape. He wanted to go back to Shangri-La and wanted the . . . wanted Ron with him.

Falcon led him across the space between buildings. Weed didn’t hear or see a thing. It was dark and still. He smelled pine trees and realized he was starving. He caught himself planning to go to a Denny’s after this all-nighter, as he had so many times in the past. Damn, he missed Denny’s. All the more reason to get back to the garage. Now those folks would be brewing coffee soon and sitting down for chow while he was dealing with this shit, if he was still alive. Ah, well, he’d had a good run of things and coming out here was a big old fucking misstep on his part. He’d either leave here with everything he came for or not at all.

“Open the door.”

Weed complied. He turned the knob and stepped into the blackness. This, he decided, was his opportunity. Falcon expected this might be the time and place where his old prisoner might put up some resistance so he kept a wary eye as the old man shuffled through the door.

Wariness wasn’t enough. Weed ducked left towards the cells. Unseen by Falcon was Weed’s knife flicking out in the dark.

The man, having a gun and being inches from the light switch was bemused by the old fool. There was nowhere to go. The building was a cement box. He smiled as he stepped through the door and flipped the switch.

Weed was not just a fighter, he was a dirty fighter. He was quick and unpredictable. He squatted down right next to the door so when the man entered, looking left and at eye level for the old man who was surely cowering in a corner, he was stunned by the vicious attack from below.

Weed stabbed upwards to the groin hard and fast as he stood. He threw his other elbow at the face but Falcon avoided it. But Weed’s knife never stopped its vicious assault. Like a sewing machine Weed worked the knife up the man’s torso, stabbing his way across the gut.

The pain incapacitated Falcon. He dropped his gun and grabbed for Weed’s knife in desperation. But Weed had him against the wall and was trying to get the knife to his throat. He succeeded and one push ended the man’s life.

§

Ron wasn’t clear what he saw as he peeked from the cell door. He sat to wait, praying, and only moments later saw the light click on, heard the sounds of a scuffle, and then the screams of a man in pain. He watched as Francis, thin old man Francis, held a man a foot taller and thirty years younger than himself against the wall and apparently cut his throat. Francis stepped away and the man, who was drenched in blood, dropped to the ground.

Francis moved quickly, a lot quicker than Ron had ever seen him move, and hit the light switch. All was black again. Ron pushed the door shut. He heard Weed whisper.

“Ronnie, you in here?”

“Yes.”

“Well sit tight. I’m getting us out of here.”

Ron sat, confused, happy, nervous, but mostly confused. What the hell was going on? He waited in complete darkness and silence for a moment. He wondered if he should leave the cell again.

The light clicked on again. Again, he heard the sounds of a scuffle. Then the gurgle of a dying man. Another voice, a young boy, yelling for help. Then he heard Francis.

“Ah shit Ronnie, I think I fucked up. One got away.”

Ron was just starting to peek from his cell but the light clicked off again.

“Ronnie, I do hope you get out of here.”

Ron didn’t know what to say. Did Francis just leave him? He wasn’t even sure why he was here in the first place. Francis was apparently at the door looking out because he heard him speak in a hushed whisper from down the hall.

“Looks like only two are heading over here. One’s a kid.”

Weed fell silent and seconds later the door crashed open. More silence.

“Show yourself!”

Silence.

The light clicked on again. Hesitant footsteps down the hall. What Ron heard next set his teeth on edge.

§

After Weed killed one of the kid guards, he shut off the light and got himself behind the door. When the door opened all the way, it hit the wall so he squeezed into the corner as tight as possible and waited in the dark. When the door crashed open he sat tight. When the lights clicked on he waited some more. The two men entering would see the two bodies, the blood, and probably assume he was on the run. What they would do next Weed had no idea. He dared a peek around the door and saw the two walking away, down the hall and towards Ron’s cell.

Weed moved fast, shot a glance out of the door as he ran by. No one was coming that he could see. He raced up and grabbed the kid by the hair and was pushing his blade into his neck before he could do a thing. He would have preferred to take the one called Jake out first, but he had to take the closest target.

When the kid tried to scream all that came out was the horrible sound of his throat flapping as the air pushed through the gash. He dropped to the cement as Jake spun around, eyes wide.

Without a word Jake came at Weed with a quick and vicious assault. The old biker was caught off guard and ended up in the clutches of the giant man being choked to death. Jake smashed his knee into Weed’s gut, causing him to drop his knife. Weed was going unconscious quickly, helpless in the iron grip.

This is it you old fucker.
Weed thought as blackness flooded his vision. He panicked and fought for air at first, but then he felt himself relax. He had no more fight in him, and he knew he must be crossing over to wherever it was he was going be it heaven, hell, or oblivion. He let go, amazed at how peaceful it was at the end, how painless it was to die. He was vaguely aware he was pissing himself and his dying thought was.
Ain’t the first time I pissed my pants but it’s the last.

But right before he was totally gone, when all that remained of the world was a dull grey dot rapidly shrinking to nothing, he found himself coming back. He was on the floor gasping for air, straining to breathe, and coughing up a lung. His neck was a knot of pain, his eyes were pounding in his skull, and his head hurt like it got stomped by an elephant. And he was soaked in his own warm piss.

As air and blood flowed back into his brain Weed came back fully to consciousness and slowly raised his head. He saw Ron getting pummeled by the giant that had just tried to squeeze the life out of him. He mustered up what strength he had left, his body still numb and icy, his gut flipping over and over, and stood. He could barely walk a straight line but he managed to get his hands on his blade and made a line straight for the giant asshole’s back.

Weed rammed his blade into Jake’s neck but, in his weakened state, he only struck a glancing blow. It injured the man, drew a lot of blood, but wasn’t fatal. Jake turned and Weed stumbled backwards.

He wanted to say something really bad ass right now, some remark or comment like he was the hero in a movie, but when that giant bastard turned on him he only came up with one thing.

“Fuck me.”

Jake towered over Weed, his arm back and his fist balled tight. Weed caught a glimpse of Ron on the floor behind him. He wasn’t moving and Weed feared the worst. He turned to run but pain shot through his scalp and his head whipped backwards. He was pulled off his feet by his hair. He hit the ground and reflexively rolled away. He was able to get to his feet and flash his blade at the giant man causing him pause.

“Fucking pussy, pulling my hair like a little girl.” Weed scowled.

“Fuck you, old man.”

“Fuck me? Fuck you!” Weed was rubbing the back of his head with his free hand and when he withdrew it there was blood on his fingers. Jake lunged at him but Weed brandished his knife and kept him at bay. Weed was almost embarrassed for the man.

“You really are a pussy. Pulling hair. Afraid of old men with pointy objects.” Weed started to laugh and he could see that he was getting under the man’s skin. He was backing towards the door, about to make a break for it, when he saw Ron stir. He stopped moving away.

“My god, look at you. A six foot seven vagina. All them muscles and you’re just a big fucking coward.”

“Shut up!” Jake roared.

“Shit man, I’m a dumb old mother fucker with a brain soaked in alcohol and bong water and I’m winning this here war of the words. Well that’s a first for me, I tell you.” Weed stole a glance at Ron who was slowly getting to his feet.

He was really pissing Jake off and pissing people off to the point that they would attack him was a skill he’d had all his life, but it was a skill he used judiciously. Ron looked as ready as he’d ever be and Jake looked to be on the verge of attacking so Weed knew it was time. The man only needed a small push to provoke him.