Authors: Weston Ochse

Tags: #Tomes of the Dead

Empire Of Salt (38 page)

M
etzger met the others running towards him.

Derrick's smile was immense. "Holy shit. You blew it all to hell."

Natasha's smile was almost as wide. Metzger remembered the camera mounted in the truck and wondered how much she'd seen. Then he saw Veronica. She smiled as well, but it was more reserved. Auntie Lin followed behind.

Suddenly he realized the enormity of what Veronica had witnessed. Natasha wouldn't understand. She couldn't ever know what had happened in the church or in Iraq. So it was with a heavy heart that Metzger embraced the others as they plowed into him.

"So you got her?" Derrick asked. "Veronica said you got her."

"Yeah. I got her." He shot Veronica a look. "It was close though. She almost had me."

"Did you see the water?" Natasha asked.

Metzger nodded.

"What now?" Veronica asked.

"We gotta get out of here. By the frequency of the flashing lights, every zombie in the zip code could be headed our way." Metzger glanced at Natasha, who'd been gazing at him the whole time. "We need to find somewhere safe."

"Didn't you see?" Derrick asked. "The road is completely blocked. There's no way out."

"We don't have to drive out of here," Natasha said. "We could just run to the road until we meet a passing car or truck."

"We'd never outrun the zombies. We'd tire first." Metzger shook his head. "The only way looks like the sea. Like Maude said."

"We're not leaving without my uncle and aunt," Veronica insisted. "They're the only family I really have."

Metzger stared at Veronica for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Then go get them."

"She can't go alone. I'm going with her," Derrick said.

Natasha moved to intercept her brother, but he shrugged her away.

"I'm going."

"Meet us at grandpa's trailer," she called.

He waved his hand, then sprinted to catch up with Veronica, who'd already made the turn down Fourth Street. Natasha turned to Metzger. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Why your grandpa's trailer?" Metzger asked.

"There are some pictures there of my mother and father I don't want to leave." Seeing his expression, she added, "They're all that I have now."

"It's a waste of time to go there."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "Why would you say that?"

Metzger felt the drug coursing through his system. He fought to control the his twitching jaw.

"You were in there a long time. What happened?" Natasha asked.

Metzger glared at her, hating that he was being asked so many questions. But then his gaze softened as he remembered that the drug could make him mean if he let it. "It was hard. I had to kill her. I don't want to talk about it if it's okay with you."

She nodded and tried to smile, looking concerned. She took Auntie Lin's hand and hurried forward, avoiding pools of light.

Metzger collected his thoughts. He was embarrassed by what had happened. His body had reacted in a natural way to wholly unnatural circumstances. That it had been a life or death situation didn't matter. Sex and death are close friends; they just never meet in public. No, he wasn't embarrassed by what happened, but that he'd been caught. He had powerful feelings for Natasha, there was no doubt. But the idea of sex on the verge of death, the power of the energy created between him and Kim Johnson where he didn't know how it would turn out, whether he'd live or die or fuck or not, was undeniable.

He realized with a sense of fatalism that if he had to do it again, he'd probably do it the same way, even knowing that Natasha would be crushed if she ever found out.

It was at that moment that Metzger realized that he wasn't the right man for her. She deserved better. She didn't need his sort of damaged goods.

They decided to take a detour.

Well actually, Veronica decided. Derrick followed. Veronica wanted to check on the children first. She'd explained to Derrick how she'd spent a lot of time babysitting Carrie Loughnane's disparate offspring, so much so that she felt like a sort of big sister. There had been several times when Carrie had fallen off the wagon, leaving her kids to be cared for by fate, and Veronica had stepped in and treated the seven little monsters the way she would have wanted to be treated herself.

So she and Derrick ran the length of Fourth Street, then turned down Avenue A. They hadn't seen any zombies yet but the dramatically flashing lights promised that it would only be a matter of time.

Derrick hoped that they were going to make it in time, but when they arrived at the Laundromat, the zombies had been there and gone. It looked as if a herd of rampaging beasts had stampeded through it. Nothing remained of the glass frontage. The chairs had been splintered and twisted into origami puzzles. Washing machines were overturned, posters had been ripped from the walls, the fluorescent lamps that had hung from the drop ceiling were shattered, not a single one intact.

But somehow the children were still there.

And Derrick realized, so was their mother.

Like goldfish in individual tanks, the kids stared out of the glass doors fronting the upper row of front-load dryers, their eyes wide, mouths open and sagging, exhausted from screaming. Blood smeared the outside of the doors. One of the glass fronts had cracked but was still held together by the shatter-proof coating.

Derrick looked at the doors. To open them one had to turn a lever above the coin feed and then pull the handle on the door; too difficult for a zombie for sure.

Then he looked down. On the floor beneath where the children had been saved lay their mother. Carrie Loughnane's eyes remained the sky blue they'd always been. Her face held a knowing smile, as if in the last moments of her life she'd finally understood something important. But the rest of her was mangled. Her arms had been taken, her legs bent at impossible angles, broken and snapped, her ribcage torn open. She'd been emptied out. Nothing remained but a glimpse of vertebrae in the shiny cavity that had once harbored a heart big enough to love everyone she'd ever met.

"Come on," Derrick said, trying not to look at the body again. "We gotta - we gotta go."

"But the children -"

When Veronica put her hand on one of the glass plates, the girl on the other side pressed her cheek against it. "We can't just leave them like this."

"We have to." Derrick looked from one to the other. "Do you really think we can keep them safe? We're barely able to protect ourselves."

"But they're only kids!"

"Look at the front of the dryers. The zombies already tried and gave up. They can't get to them. Let someone else save them in the morning when help arrives."

"
If
help arrives."

"
When
help arrives. I can't believe that a whole factory can explode and an entire town can get eaten and no one will come to investigate?"

Veronica gave him a withering look. "Look around you. This town has never been on anyone's
to do
list."

"No, I guess you're right. Then how about this -
we'll
come back and save them in the morning."

"But what if something happens to us?"

"If something happens to us, then something's going to happen to them if they're with us too. Like I said, they're safer here."

Veronica shook her head, not because she disagreed, but because she couldn't believe this was happening and they had to make these sorts of decisions. Nothing had prepared them for this. There was no
Idiot's Guides to Zombie Chasing
. There were no
how-tos-
on how to survive zombie attacks. That they'd survived this long was a miracle. If they made it through the night it would be more than a miracle.

"Let's go." Derrick glanced around once more at the devastation. "The zombies are on their way. I feel it. Anytime now." Derrick climbed over the sill, careful of the broken glass.

Veronica stole a last look at the kids. Their faces pressed against the glass of the driers, terror showing on their faces at the prospect of being left alone. But Derrick was right. They had a greater chance of surviving if left where they were. So she silently wished the children good luck and followed Derrick into the street.

They kept to the edge of the buildings. When they reached the restaurant, they saw hundreds of zombies staggering ashore. The image stunned them for a moment, freezing them in place. By the time they turned and ran up Avenue A, the zombies had seen them and were in full pursuit.

At Fourth Street they zigged east, intending to take Avenue B north to Veronica's trailer. But they saw movement near the intersection and dodged between two trailers. Almost out of breath, they finally got to the back of Veronica's trailer. As they arrived, they heard a scream.

Veronica shot Derrick a wide-eyed look. He waved her to her bedroom window, the screen long since broken. He'd go in the front. A small, chicken part of him wanted to turn that around so that she went in the front, but he squashed it.

A white Suburban was parked in the front yard. The sight of it actually made Derrick smile, not because he wasn't afraid of Hopkins and his cronies, but because he was less afraid of them than he was of the zombies.

Raised voices came from inside. He recognized Hopkins's voice and the deep baritone of Veronica's uncle. At the door, he peeked in, planning to jerk his head back, but the scene captured and held his attention. Veronica's aunt was dead on the couch, her face almost gone. Blood and brain matter were splattered on the wall behind her. Next to her on the couch was Natasha's uncle, his hands out, pleading with his attacker.

Derrick's movement must have caught the uncle's attention, because he looked squarely at Derrick, as did Hopkins.

Derrick brought his crowbar around, but he was too slow and Hopkins backhanded him with his pistol. Pain exploded in Derrick's face; he fell to the ground, wanting to cry and vomit at the same time. He tried to rise, but his breath was stolen away from him as Hopkins kicked him in the stomach. Now he did puke, ribbons of bile sliding down his face. He was jerked to his feet by his hair and spun to face his attacker.

"You motherfucking kids! How
dare
you fuck with me!"

Hopkins brought his fist back and plowed it into Derrick's face. His eyes felt like they'd burst, the pain turning everything red and white. He tried to say something, but could do nothing more than gurgle.

Suddenly he felt Hopkins stiffen. He let go and Derrick fell to the floor.

"You can't punch a kid like that," Veronica snarled. Then she cried, "Oh, Lord - Auntie!"

Derrick didn't see what happened next, but he heard three pistol shots and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. It took a moment, but Veronica rolled him over.

"He killed Auntie," she whispered hoarsely.

"And you killed him." Derrick got to one knee. Hopkins lay face down. Derrick got the rest of the way to his feet, then kicked the dead man in the side as hard as he could.

Veronica ran to her uncle, cradling his wife's body.

Derrick rolled Hopkins over. He was happy to see the surprise that would live forever on his dead face. That it was two kids who killed him was all the better. Derrick brought his foot back and kicked the man in the side of the head.

Outside he saw a mass of zombies chasing someone down the street. They could be next.

"Hurry up," Veronica said to her uncle. "We have to go."

Her uncle shook his head. "I'm not going to leave her. I have to bury her."

"But uncle, you have to come or you'll die."

"I let him kill her."

"I don't care about that. I care about you."

"Then take care of yourself. Save yourself. I'm going to die right here."

"But uncle!"

"Veronica, keep your voice down," Derrick hissed. "We have to leave."

She turned to Derrick. "Go without me."

"What? I can't do that!"

She gripped his shirt. "Do it. Just go." She kissed him hard on the lips. "I'll be there, I promise. Now
go
. Before it's too late."