What a difference a day makes. For the second time in a year.
“This is fucked,” said Flex. “We’re here because it’s safe, and now it’s the same as everywhere else.”
“It’s worse, Flex, I hate
to tell you,” said Dave.
The gate was open. No guards protected the state house. Flex
plowed into
five zombies, using the cow catcher to sweep them either under or aside, whatever fate befell them. It didn’t matter either way to him.
Dead is dead – again.
As they passed, Dave threw his arm out and popped rounds into the heads of the creatures still writhing on the ground.
“I don’t want to dick around here too long, Flex.”
“I know. We’ve got to get to Serena and Lisa.”
“Yeah, like now
,
”
said Dave.
Flex slammed the brakes, and Dave caught himself with a hand against the dash.
“Sorry, bud. Thought you were belted.”
“I always wear it,” said Dave. “Just didn’t think of it – you know, other shit on my mind.”
“Got it.”
Flex hit the button on the radio. “Kev, Jacko, Whit – where are you?”
No answer.
“Think they got their hands full?” asked Flex.
“Probably. Fuck, Flex! Look behind us!”
Flex did. He didn’t like it at all. If he had to estimate, he’d put the count of walking dead entering the gates of the state house
at forty or more
.
Dave jumped on the gun and Flex hit the B switch on the GPS screen. The sight came into view, and Dave held down the trigger a
nd panned the approaching horde, the hot shell casings peppering both men, causing them to wince in anticipation of the next scorching brass projectile.
Like a sick shooting gallery, their heads began exploding right to left, and as they went down
,
the walkers behind them staggered over
the downed
bodies and kept on coming. This
climbing and crawling only served to put their
heads
at various levels, making it harder to shoot them effectively. Soon
enough they were back up and moving
at full height
.
“Damn, that
gun’s
loud today!” shouted Flex over the rattling
AK-47. He
knew Dave likely hadn’t heard a thing he’d said, so he just drove for all he was worth.
“For fuck’s sake, don’t jam now!”
said Dave, ejecting one cartridge and locking in another. “We’re making headway!”
Dave
locked in the first round
and began firing anew.
“Hold on, Dave
!” yelled Flex, over the cacophony. “
I have to get farther back.”
“Fuck that, Flex!
Just g
et the hell out of here, would you?
We can’t kill them all anyway, and we have to
find
Lisa and Serena
!”
Flex nodded. Dave was right. They could be here all day, but if the girls needed them, it wouldn’t wait. These bastards
would keep indefinitely
. He fired the engine and spun the wheel, flooring it. The truck fishtailed left and
shot
dirt and rocks outward, peppering the nearest zombies in the face and eyes.
Dave blasted them with the AK-47, causing black brain-matter to rain down from the sky.
Flex’s tires hit the
hill
of zombie bodies and flew upward, landing atop a three-foot pile of crushed and struggling men and women who refused to give up and who would only die at
another’s
hand.
T
he big crew cab
lurched forward a few inches more, then stopped as the engine revved to maximum RPM.
The truck had
high-centered on a pile of them, and Dave looked at
Flex
, his eyes wide.
“Dude! What the hell?”
F
lex gunned the engine, but the engine screamed and the wheels spun in mid-air, unable to provide forward momentum.
Thrashed hands missing fingernails
,
and
in some cases entire digits,
pounded and clawed at the doors and windows, and Flex had a horrible feeling that the doors would pull open and they would be inundated with the dead, stinking human husks.
“Reload it, dude!” shouted Dave, abandoning the empty gun. He leapt over the seat into the back, and as he did so, the truck slowly began tilting toward the rear.
Flex saw it was working. But not enough. He lifted the forty-pound ammo box from the front and threw it into the back seat.
The truck tilted more. Flex gunned the engine. The rear tires were still off the ground. He slammed a new mag into the AK-47 and cleared out the twenty or so zombies clinging to the sides.
“My ears are shot!” said Flex.
“Recline your seat, Flex!” shouted Dave. “I can’t counter your weight, brother!”
“What?” shouted Flex. “Fuck if I can hear a thing!”
Suddenly Flex’s seatback flipped all the way down behind him, and his hands pulled from the steering wheel, his eyes staring up at the headliner of the truck.
“Hit the gas!” Dave screamed.
“I can’t fuckin’ see!”
“Just hit it! You were clear last time I looked!”
Flex
threw his body forward briefly, grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and
jammed his foot onto the gas pedal
. The Chevy
rocketed forward, up and over the mound of bodies that had
,
just moments before,
rendered its wheels useless.
Flex
held
himself up with both
hands clutching
the steering wheel
as the truck chewed up the bodies beneath his undercarriage. His arms had quickly grown exhausted with no backrest, and with another press of the pedal, the truck bounced
over several more of the determined creatures. Just as he
felt he would lose his tentative grip
, he felt the seatback
slam forward, meeting his back
, and he relaxed,
flooring the pedal
again.
Dave
bounced off the back seat at the unexpected G-force, then adjusted and
scrambled back over the
seatback, sitting
beside Flex
, huffing and puffing. He smiled big, got back on the gun, and started firing again.
Flex smiled despite himself. Dave Gammon could have his intense moments, but for the most part he was having a ball.
Flex’s truck was in the clear in another twenty yards. He looked in the
rear view mirror and saw the carnage behind him.
Dave stopped firing the AK and fell back in his seat, breathing hard. He looked at Flex and laughed until he cried.
“You should’ve seen your fuckin’ face when you fell backward. It was like an ogre getting upended by an elf.”
“That was a great idea, Dave. You save
d
our asses back there.”
“I’ve got a few physics tricks up my sleeve,” said Dave. “I may not have been good in school, but I always got the whole fulcrum thing, thanks to seesaws. Dude, that was some great driving.”
“Let’s go find your women,” said Flex. “And you better buckle up again, man.
Fuckin’ t
raffic in this town is way unpredictable.”
*****
The shower felt great, and Hemp was more relaxed than he’d been in a week. He could thank Charlie for that.
He was also more concerned than he’d been in six months. It was one thing fighting a single-minde
d adversary; one that had no idea they were about to die for the final time – an enemy that saw you not as an enemy at all, but food.
It was quite another to fight an enemy that did not die easily, but that could strategize, recognize danger, and move to avoid it. It made the element of surprise important. Something they hadn’t had to concern themselves with.
Hemp waited for Charlie to throw her shirt of the day on. She had been out with Gem, and they’d found a tee-shirt place on the outskirts of town. Hemp hadn’t seen any of the new ones, but he was waiting with anticipation.
Charlie was enjoying it as much as he was.
“You ready?” she said from around the corner.
“Never ready, but dying to see you.”
“Ta da!” she shouted, and jumped out from behind the door, her hands in the air.
Her shirt was long-sleeved and yellow, and on the front it had a
woman
h
olding a meat cleaver, a huge open-mouthed smile on her face. The caption below read:
You can’t have manslaughter without laughter!
“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” said Hemp, laughing.
“
A lot of my other shirts have
sexual overtones,” said Charlie. “This one just seems to work.”
“What works?” asked Gem from the couch.
“Ah, she’s awake!” said Charlie. “Hey, baby.” She sat next to Gem on the sofa. “How you doing?”
“God, I needed that nap,” she said. “I was wiped.”
“Well, take more WAT-6 now that you’re up. We’ve already done it. We got caught short in front of the ladies.”
Gem sat up and hugged Charlie, resting her head on her shoulder. “What ladies?” she mumbled into Charlie’s neck.
“The zombie ladies,” said Charlie. “Lucky we didn’t have them out. I was horny. Wasn’t on top of my game.”
“I know!” said Gem. “This pregnancy sure doesn’t kill that, does it?”
“Maybe for them a bit,” said Charlie, sticking out her
still flat
stomach.
“Yeah. That.”
“Don’t underestimate a man’s ability to overlook some things when necessary,” said Hemp. He immediately wondered if he
’d
worded it offensively.
“Shit turns you on and you know it,” said Gem. “Okay. What time is it? How long have the boys been gone
?
”
“Little over an hour and a half,” said Charlie, checking her watch.
“Wow. I was only out that long? I feel like I’ve had six hours.”
Charlie went into the kitchen and got another wafer from the refrigerator. She gave it to Gem. “Eat, sleep, wake, then call Flex and Dave.”
“I hope they found
our girls
,” said Gem, chewing slowly. “Yech.”
She fell back and went out.
“She’s safe,” said Charlie. “I’m tempted to leave her there, but Trina and Taylor might wake up.”
Within two minutes, Gem was on her feet, wobbly but protected and awake.
“We’re going back out,” said Hemp. “We have some important tests to run.”
“Well, good luck to you then,” said Gem. “I want a full report if it’s good news.”
“And if it’s bad?” asked Charlie, smiling.
“Hey. I’m pregnant, and I don’t need that crap. Keep it to yourself.”
“Yeah. I’ll try that.
Wake the girls
or they’ll be up all night.”
“You really think they’re sleeping up there?” asked Gem. “Guarantee there’s a game of Fuck Off going.”
After checking the peephole and seeing the coast was clear aside from fewer than a dozen ratz, Hemp led the way, spraying them with urushiol and clearing a path.
They got back to the mobile lab without incident.
What they saw when they entered made them stop in their tracks.
The two zombie women sat on the floor, cross-legged, facing one another. Their hands were lim
p in their laps. They stared straight ahead
.
Both their heads turned at once.
Their hands moved together, pressing against the ground.
They stood, as if synchronized, and faced Hemp and Charlie.
“There are so many chills running down my spine right now,” said Charlie in a whisper, “that I think it’s more chill than spine.”
“I’m right there,” said Hemp, his voice almost inaudible. Hemp looked at Charlie’s belt and saw the urushiol bottle hanging there. He had an idea.
“Turn away from them, Charlie. I will, too.”
They did. Slowly, they turned until their bodies were facing away from the caged woman-things.
“Take the urushiol from your belt and hold on to it. As I walk forward, I want you to back up toward the cage along with me. Stay right with me.
”
“I think I get it. What if it kills her?”
“Then I’m wrong anyway, and it won’t matter much,” said Hemp.