Empire Of Salt (34 page)

T
he storm raged around them.

They kept to the shadows as best they could. Occasionally a white Suburban would roar by on a parallel street. Thankfully, they could hear the vehicles even when they were driving with their lights off; when they heard one, they'd stop and hide until it passed.

When Natasha and the others crossed Avenue E, they saw that Lazlo's trailer was lit by the headlights from two vehicles. Shadows moved about inside. But that wasn't their destination.

They turned immediately north and crossed 4
^th
Street one by one, aware that at any moment those in the vehicle could look their way. But they made it safely across, weaving past propane tanks, through yards and out the other side.

Soon they arrived at their destination - Kristov's house. They crashed through the gate, then waded through knee-deep cans. The front door was unlocked. When they were all inside, Metzger closed the door, barricaded it with the kitchen table, then peered out the window to see if anyone had followed them.

Everyone else flopped on the couches and chairs in the living room, defeated and exhausted.

"Why here?" Metzger asked.

"We need to make some plans," Derrick said, his voice a monotone. "They'd be expecting us at some of the other places, like the Mad Scientist's or Maude's trailer. No one would expect us to be here. Here we at least have some time to come up with a plan."

The only light in the room came from an illuminated Elvis clock positioned directly above the couch. Natasha and Auntie Lin sat underneath it, while Veronica and Derrick grabbed chairs on either side. Auntie Lin held Natasha's hand.

"It's like a bad dream," Veronica said.

"It's not a dream. It's real." Natasha's voice was strained.

"How could this happen?" Derrick asked.

"I don't know. It just did." Natasha wiped her eyes dry with the palms of her hands. "People can't leave well enough alone, I guess."

"We need to get out of town," Metzger said. "We can't stay here."

"Maude said to go by boat," Veronica said.

"I don't know if we can trust her."

"She's dead," Derrick said. "Isn't that trustworthy enough?"

Metzger regarded the boy for a moment before he answered. "No." He returned to his vigil at the window. "We need two things. We need a distraction of some sort and we need a vehicle. We either find something drivable and hit the road, or find something floatable and go across the sea. Hopkins be damned."

"Either way we're fucked," Veronica snorted. "I wish I could have shot him when I had the chance."

"On one hand we have Mr. Hopkins to worry about, and on the other we have the zombies," Auntie Lin piped in.

"I don't think we have to worry so much about them," Metzger said. "If we move fast enough, we should make it. Those zombies move slow; if we're in a car or on a speed boat there should be no way they can get at us."

"Don't say '
no way
.'" Derrick frowned. "I bet a week ago you would have said there was no way that zombies existed."

"I bet you're right." Metzger's eyes suddenly widened. He hurried back to the window. "Wait. Shhh."

They heard the unmistakable sound of cans being pushed aside as something waded into the yard.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit," Natasha said. She glanced at Auntie Lin, then tiptoed to where Metzger stood. He put his arm around her waist and hugged her close. "See anything?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "No. Not yet."

An incredible bang made the trailer shudder.

"What the hell was that?" Veronica jumped as the banging came again, from the back of the trailer this time.

Metzger peeked out the door. The yard was empty, as was the street. He moved to the living room window.

The banging continued at regular intervals, moving along the rear of the trailer. Each bang was followed by a shudder as if something immense was ramming into the thirty-foot-long home.

Veronica hefted her pistol and eased towards the back of the trailer. Derrick grabbed a heavy statue of Elvis wearing prison stripes and slashed it through the air a few times experimentally.

Natasha ran to the kitchen and yanked open a drawer. She rifled through it, took out a spatula and tossed it aside. She tried several other drawers and finally found an immense knife. She stared at it open-mouthed for a moment, then tossed it back in the drawer.

All the while the banging continued, the trailer shuddering and shuddering.

"What are you doing?" Derrick asked.

"Looking for a weapon," she said.

"What was wrong with the knife?"

"I just can't... I can't stab someone."

The sound of cans moving grew louder, coming around the front of the house, before stopping at the front door.

Natasha tiptoed to the door, but Metzger, who was peering carefully out the window, put out his hand and shook his head.
No
, he mouthed.
You do not want to see this.

She stopped, bit her lip, and peeked out the window. There was her father, standing with his head down, his arms at his sides, wearing a military uniform, the front of it stained with blood and gore.

She looked in horror at Derrick.

"It's him, isn't it?" he asked.

Natasha nodded.

"I knew he'd come for us," Derrick said calmly.

Natasha gaped at him, and swallowed hard. She knew what she had to do but she doubted that she had the strength to do it.

Metzger must have seen something in her eyes.

"You aren't going out there."

"I can't leave him like that." She stared at the floor. "He's my daddy."

"But now he's a zombie."

"I know. But he doesn't have to be." She gulped and went over to Derrick. She gave him a hug as she knelt beside him. "We can't let him be like that, can we?"

Derrick shook his head. He wiped his nose with his forearm and stood. Natasha stood with him.

"What are we going to do?" he asked her.

"We're going to kill daddy."

Auntie Lin began to cry.

Metzger looked as though he wanted to say something, but kept his mouth shut. He held the pistol out for her.

She took it. It felt lighter than she'd thought it would.

She put one arm around her brother. "Keep holding me, Derrick. I need you to help me do this."

He did as he was told, his eyes wide with fear.

Natasha held the pistol before her and nodded to Derrick, who yanked open the door. Her father stood at the bottom of the steps to the porch, his head downcast as if he were ashamed at what he'd become. He'd always fought so many demons, never thought himself worthy of what he had, always wanted something more. Now here he was, a monster beyond reckoning.

A small cry escaped from Derrick.

Their father heard it and slowly brought his head up. He stared at them through yellow, alien eyes. Nothing of who he was remained in him.

The zombie began to wheeze and rock back and forth. The cans stirred around its legs.

Natasha brought the pistol to bear and held it pointed at her father's head. Her hand shook, and she couldn't hold the gun steady. Derrick's hand came up and balanced against hers. Natasha counted silently to three, then pulled the trigger. A hole opened in the zombie's forehead. She fired again and again until the gun clicked empty.

The zombie first fell to its knees, then as more shots struck it, fell on its back. For a brief moment, Natasha saw that person who had been her father, and then the rain came down and buried him beneath the sea of beer cans.

M
etzger took control of Derrick and Natasha. The first thing he did was get them out of harm's way. He knew from experience that being around dead people you once loved could drive a person crazy. He'd seen enough of his friends die and had spent many hours standing next to their bodies, or lying next to them in a roadside ditch, trying to stay absolutely still as enemy fire tore through the air above his head.

Such were the vicissitudes of war.

And this
was
war. Hopkins was the enemy general and the zombies were his troops. Metzger's own ragtag army was made up of frightened kids and their nanny. Pathetic really, but it was all he had. There weren't any Hajji-made roadside bombs, there weren't any skinnys on the rooftops with weapons, and there weren't deliberate ambushes to run into. But there were zombies, and although they weren't trained in military maneuvers these creatures were immune to pain and fear, and every bit as badass as the most hardened soldier.

So they paralleled Avenue G heading north to the Mad Scientist's house, running through the yards, stopping and starting to make sure that zombies weren't lying in wait for them. They crossed Second Street without being seen and sprinted into the Mad Scientist's yard.

They found Andy Gudgel waiting for them at the door. He waved them in, then shut and double-bolted it behind them.

Metzger was immediately struck by the sterility of the place. There was a living room, a kitchen and a hallway, just like every other damned single-wide trailer on the planet, but this one seemed... well, not much lived in. He turned to make a remark to Dr. Gudgel, then saw the man smile thinly and offer him a nod.

"Please, everyone in the kitchen. We'll be safer there."

"What? In the kitchen?" Veronica made a point of looking at where the carpet met the linoleum. "Is there like a force field or something?"

Dr. Gudgel didn't answer, but ushered everyone inside. Once past the demarcation, he grabbed a lever above the sink's water faucet and pulled it up, and the room began to drop on hydraulic motors.

Metzger couldn't help but grin as they were lowered into a secret chamber. They came to a halt in a large room with concrete walls.

Metzger escorted Derrick and Natasha to a sofa and set them down, then turned to appraise his new surroundings.

Here and there sand and dirt trickled from the crumbling mortar. The floor was covered in indoor-outdoor carpeting. It had the feel of a basement: low ceilings, lots of couches, and a big television screen on the far wall, divided into twelve squares. Six of them were lit active. The others were black.

One screen showed the front yard of Dr. Gudgel's house, the angle of the camera capturing the door to the laboratory. Another screen showed the front of the Space Station and part of the Laundromat. The door to the restaurant had been ripped off the hinges. The Laundromat's windows were entirely gone. Suddenly a figure walked into frame and shambled into the Laundromat. It knelt and did something beside the bank of dryers, then lurched to its feet. It turned, and Metzger cursed under his breath. It was his old friend Royland, now a full-fledged, glowing-eyed zombie. They'd met in Norfolk and had both signed up for the program...
There but by the grace of God
, he thought.

Another screen showed the front of the school. Two zombies seemed lost in the intricacies of the playground slide, while one beat his fists on the tire swing, sending the killer bees who called it home into a maniacal swarm, the ensuing cloud virtually hiding the zombie from view.